


Heroes and Thieves

by FREAKYPUMPKIN



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, One Meeting per chapter, no multi-chapter story, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 60,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FREAKYPUMPKIN/pseuds/FREAKYPUMPKIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I took a one-word prompt for each chapter to write a Malec AU-First Meeting.<br/>A lot of First Meetings in countless different situations. :)</p><p>And if you feel like it, you can send me one word as a prompt for a new first meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hug

**Author's Note:**

> I'm freakypumpkin also on tumblr, in case you want to follow me there or simply have a question. :-)

Magnus didn't know what he had expected, when he'd opened the door of his apartment around 10 pm. But among all the possibilities he’d thought of, the young man leaning against the doorframe hadn't been one of them. 

The stranger had closed his eyes and looked very exhausted. His hair was a pure mess, which could probably be blamed on the wind howling outside, and his pale cheeks were painted with that kind of rosy color that only cold weather managed to get done like that. Apart from that, Magnus was surprised, that even with leaning on the doorframe the young man was almost as tall as himself, dressed completely in black with the silver rings on his right ear being the only exceptions of color. Around the man's shoulder was slung a messenger bag ... a black one with an assembly of several buttons, but Magnus didn't take the time to read them. His concern, that the young man might pass out any second overruled his curiosity. 

"Uh, can I help you?", Magnus cautiously asked. He was concerned, yes, but that didn't mean he wasn't ready to slam his door shut again the moment the other guy turned out to be dangerous. 

One eye was cracked open. It looked like it took a lot of energy to just do that. But when the stranger noticed, that the question was directed at him, he clumsily detached himself from the doorframe and opened the other eye as well. They were blue and the man was actually quite handsome. He ran one hand across his face and through his hair, messing it up even more when Magnus hadn't thought it to be possible. 

"Uh, maybe?", the young man muttered, "I ... kind of had a pretty shitty day today, but I somehow survived it - first day at a new job, never fun - and I just noticed, that I forgot my keys and my phone died about an hour ago and my roommate is out ... somewhere. But as we haven't yet put that clichéd spare key under the doormat, I wanted to ask if I could use your phone ..." It seemed like he had wanted to say more, but had ran out of energy, his hands extended in a way like he was about to turn towards the ceiling and ask 'Why, God, why?'.

Magnus, never the shy one, simply grabbed one hand and shook it with a bright smile. "Nice to meet you, too, I'm Magnus."

The stranger snapped out of his momentary trance, like he was shaken awake by the touch of Magnus' hand. 

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, I'm Alec ... Lightwood ... I moved in about a week ago ... on the second, no third floor, staircase, uh, there." He awkwardly pointed at the ceiling to his right. Magnus suspected he meant one of the apartments on the next floor. 

"Nice to meet you, Alec." 

Alec smiled at that and it was a smile full of warmth, and thankfulness, and this kind of exhausted joy that made you want to cry happy tears. 

"Can I use your phone?", Alec asked, still holding onto Magnus' hand like a lifeline. His eyes big and blue and almost sparkling in the dim light of the hallway. "And can I maybe have a hug? I would take that, too."

Taken aback at the unusual request, Magnus stared at the slightly shorter male for a while, but then decided that there was no harm in spreading a little warmth. He grinned at Alec. "Sure thing", he said, "you can use my phone and you can get that hug, too." 

As if he could have said anything else. This guy was like a lost puppy with big, blue eyes. Or a lost kitten. Whatever ... he was damn cute and looked like he could really use a hug or just some comfort in general. 

Magnus spread his arms and pulled Alec into a nice, long hug ... and he was hugged back. The other's arms closed behind his back and Alec hid his face in the crook of Magnus' neck. 

A few seconds passed. 

"You smell very nice", Alec mumbled.

"Well, thank you very much, you're quite cold. You must be freezing."

"I'm fine ... beginning to feel my toes again."

Magnus couldn't do anything against the smile stretching across his face.

-+-

The next day, the very same neighbor stood once again in front of Magnus' apartment. Mortified at what he had done the last night, blushing beet red from his neck to the top of his ears. Magnus just hugged him again, while Alec buried his face in his hands muttering how sorry he was. 


	2. Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is looking for Jace and travels in time without realizing, Magnus on the other hand wonders where this young man suddenly came from.

Bad timing was something Alec excelled at, but this was a whole new level, even by his standards. 

-+-

Magnus had tried to find the right moment to pose this specific question for the past five months, but the timing had never been quite right. Now he had finally managed to create the perfect ambiance for it. Candlelight, an amazing dinner, with only Camille smiling at him from across the table and nobody to interrupt this moment.

"Camille, there’s something I-"

It can be definitely said, that the boy who suddenly walked into the dimly lit dining room was just as surprised as Magnus himself. 

-+-

Alec had been looking for Jace. His best friend once again tried to skip curfew, but as he already had two strikes with their teacher, Alec simply felt entitled to be the boring responsible friend and turn every stone of their hostel to get Jace back to their room in time. Turning towards the last door all the way down in the cellar, Alec thought about how easy his life would have been if he’d had a usual, responsible best friend, who wouldn’t sneak out to meet the daughter of the owner of said youth hostel. But hey, he had wanted Jace to get over that last breakup and here he was.

He opened the door, which was surprisingly not locked. This place didn’t have many locked doors in general as he had noticed. Though when he stepped through it, he randomly thought about the saying, that some doors shouldn’t be opened.

-+-

The boy was tall, Magnus noted … and pretty … and wearing strange clothes. It might have sounded weird coming from somebody like him, who loved going all out with the color, but even he had never before seen this kind of pattern. The boy’s blue eyes grew the size of carriage wheels as he took in the room in front of him. They really were very blue and Magnus found himself fascinated by the pure color. 

"Who are you? What do you think your doing here?" The moment of stunned silence was broken by Camille, who didn’t seem to have the same fascination for the boy as Magnus felt growing inside of him. There was something very endearing about the other’s utter confusion shown so openly. 

-+-

It didn’t take a genius to guess that Alec had interrupted a very personal situation. He had gotten very good at picking up on certain things since that last incident with his sister. Sadly, he hadn’t become better at avoiding those rather awkward situations. The woman at the one end of the fancy table even had an expression on her face that came very close to Isabelle’s at that one time. 

"I am so so sorry", he finally managed to stammer, feeling his face heating up. Why did this always have to happen to him? Couldn’t someone else take a turn at ‘being a complete idiot’, so Alec would get the chance of at least one normal week without any occurrences like this. Frustrated he bit his bottom lip and backed out of the room, when a sudden call made him stop. “Just forget, that I was ever he-“

"Wait!"

Alec looked up again to see the young man, who had been seated opposite from the very angry lady. Like her he was dressed like the people in the victorian era - he’d written a paper on that fashion once, though now only pieces of information remained - and to be honest the moment he saw the other man smile softly, he didn’t much care for the clothes anymore. 

"Who are you?" His voice was calm, his eyes a vibrant green and for a moment Alec thought the other would touch his wrist to keep him from closing the door. 

-+-

The candlelight danced across the boy’s pale skin, illuminating the rose color that had flooded his cheeks, playing hide and seek between his messy raven strands.  
"Uh, I - I’m Alec … and I am really sorry for interrupting. Just -" The boy - Alec - took a deep breath and his eyes nervously darted to where Camille was sitting before looking down at his feet again. He was wearing some very interesting shoes. "Just go on with your dinner, I won’t … ", his voice grew more quiet with every word until Magnus had to strain his ears to get the last words.

"Just ignore, that I’ve ever been here." For a second Magnus could see a small, biter smile on Alec’s lips that he didn’t want to see there. No, a boy so young shouldn’t carry so much bitterness. But before he could do anything, Alec stepped back and closed the door with maybe a bit more force than necessary.   
Unsure about what to make of the situation Magnus could only stare at the wooden door in front of him, his hand still raised to lift the boy’s chin, his mouth still open and filled with unsaid encouragements. 

-+-

As soon as the door swung shut, Alec leaned with his back against the cold steel and cursed his life for being so damn complicated. He finally met one really nice and attractive guy, who didn’t seem to care much about Alec’s talent of showing up at the most inconvenient moments, and then of course Alec turned and ran. He didn’t even care if the guy had a hobby of dressing up like that or that he seemed to be having a romantic dinner with his girlfriend in some cellar room of a youth hostel. Maybe he was friends with the owner. 

Why did he have to turn and run? There was no way the guy would come after him. Why did he have to meet someone while wearing his Ninja Turtles PJs?  
Alec peeked up at the handle of the door. It didn’t move an inch. Of course it didn’t. Of course he wouldn’t come after Alec to ask why he was such an idiot. Alec bit his lip hard.

But damn, his smile had been nice.

-+-

Magnus pulled the door open as soon as it had been closed, but all he saw was the empty hallway of his townhouse. The candles of the dining room let tall shadows move lazily across the walls, but none of these were dark enough to hide Alec and there was no way he had made it to the door this fast.  
Magnus thought about rushing outside and searching the streets for those blue eyes, but Camille’s voice held him back.

"What is it?", she asked. The soft rustling of the expensive fabric if her dress sounded through the room when she got up to stand next to Magnus, peering into the empty hallway. "Where did he go?"

"I don’t know", Magnus whispered. "I don’t know."

Once again he thought that the timing for his big question wasn’t quite right.  


	3. Sky/Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor!Magnus encounters a young patient with feather tattoos all over his body and a strange story about a falcon exiled from the sky.

When a bird took off to fly, there was a sound much like a heartbeat and Magnus couldn't help but feel jealous at the seemingly effortless way the bird escaped the world's gravity. Magnus had tried to do the same as a little kid. He'd thought, if he'd only run fast enough, he could do the same. Then wings would spread from his back, his body would become weightless and he could just fly away, leaving all those yelling adults behind. 

A childish dream, nothing more. But it was still there, in the back of his mind, whenever he saw a bird taking off, flapping its wings, adding another heartbeat to the wind and Magnus found himself whispering: “Take me with you“.

-+-

"You're new", was the first thing the boy said, when Magnus entered the room. The boy seemed oddly relaxed for a patient with heavy bruising, assuming Magnus had grabbed the right file. He sat on the bed leaning back on on his hands, so his long legs could swing forth and back without brushing the boring linoleum beneath their feet. His head was tilted and unbelievably blue eyes looked at Magnus; big, curious and with that innocence of trusting children. The expression was odd on the face of a 19-year-old. They usually wore darker expressions, hating the world, being annoyed at everything, rolling their eyes. But those eyes didn't leave Magnus for a second.

Only when the boy smiled, silently asking what would happen next, Magnus realized that he'd just been standing there, staring at the patient. 

"Uh, no, I'm not new", he eventually said, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer, "I'm just filling in for Dr. Loss."

"Oh, is she alright? Did she have an accident?"

Confused Magnus looked up from the file, again those blue eyes were big, filled with real worry, fear, almost panic even? "No …,“ he said slowly, entranced by that intense gaze, it was like the boys emotions were so tangible he could feel them brushing his skin, like a million cold fingertips.   
"She just caught a cold, she'll be back to work next week. She's a tough one."

Relieved the boy let out a breath and sank back onto the bed. "That's good,“ he whispered and then continued a bit louder, "I really like her, you know, she's nice."  
Magnus felt himself smiling. "Don't worry." A few seconds passed again until he remembered, why he was here in this room in the first place. What was wrong with him today? He'd even gotten more sleep than usual the last night. It couldn't be from exhaustion. But maybe ... his eyes lingered on the boy in front of him who'd began to inspect a hole at the hem of his washed-out, black sweater. 

"But you aren't here to ask about Dr. Loss, are you ..." A quick peek at the file. "Alexander?"

"Alec,“ the boy - Alexander - whispered not looking up from where he now had put a finger through that hole at the sweater's hem. The piece of clothing was pretty beat up in general, frayed at the hem, collar, at the end of the sleeves. His pants didn't really look much better either, his hair was a black mess, like splattered ink, but he didn't appear to be a homeless kid. He skin was clean, his lips not chapped despite the lower temperatures lately. And also his hair was maybe messy, but it wasn't greasy or anything like that. 

"Well then, Alec." Magnus liked the sound of the name and he liked the way the corners of Alec's mouth tilted upwards at the use of it. "Let's see those bruises."  
As it turned out, Alec had quite a few of them, on his arms, his torso, his legs as well. But instead of asking, what in the world had ran him over, Magnus was mesmerized by the feathers. Black stylized feathers in all sizes were scattered all over Alec's pale skin. They looked like tattoos, but they didn't follow any kind of pattern, didn't form a bigger picture, they were just feathers scattered like at one point they had been real and before they could get inked into Alec's skin, the wind had whirled them across the skin. The most feathers were gathered on Alec's right shoulder, trailing down his arm and the last one ending right above his wrist.

"How did you get those bruises?"

"I fell from a tree."

Magnus raised his eyebrow and managed to tear his gaze away from the feathers for a second.

"A tree?" His eyes moved back and forth between a big purpling bruise on Alec's stomach and his face. Blue eyes stayed calm and warm. He already knew the disbelieve coloring Magnus' voice and suddenly Magnus felt agitated about being one of many for this boy. 

"It was a very high tree."

"But you are here like every other week."

Alec just shrugged and nodded. "Sure, I climb a lot of trees."

"And then fall down?"

At that Alec's gaze fell down to his hands that lay in his lap, his palms turned upward. "I like it,“ he said, his voice suddenly dark and serious, but there was something else in there, like long forgotten tears and desperate screams breaking the surface again. "It's the closest I can get to the wind ... and I want to fly, but then I forget ..." A bitter smile twisted Alec's features, sharp as shattered glass and his eyes were filled with silent rage. "I always forget, that I can't fly." His voice was hoarse, his hands balled into fists. 

"Humans can't fly, Alec,“ Magnus said softly, thinking back to his own childish dreams. Birds would always leave them behind. 

"Right", Alec muttered, but his eyes were far away, maybe caught up in his own dreams. 

Magnus walked around the bed to take a look at the boy's back. That was when he first noticed the feather tied into his messy hair. It was black with a think white line at the end, almost melting into the raven strands. But it was slightly longer than his hair. He should have noticed it earlier, especially with the angry neon light casting sharp shadows from above. The bright light was good for inspecting wounds, getting a better look at reddened skin and such, but Magnus couldn't help but think, that Alec's appearance with his pale skin, those feathers and his blue eyes was made for dim lighting, with soft shadows getting lost in the creases of his sweater, scurrying across is skin, kissing the disarray of tattoos. 

"Does it hurt?"

"Barely ... Dr. Loss made me promise to come here whenever I fall from another tree."

Magnus looked at Alec's profile. "Are you sure that it's always a tree?", he asked carefully. 

Alec rolled his eyes at him, but didn't turn his head as Magnus stepped behind him. There were some cuts, but nothing serious. "I'm not getting beaten. I live on my own, so first I would have to find somebody to beat me ... I just ..." His shoulders tensed making scars appear that had been hidden under the dark color of the tattoos. Magnus stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at the zig-zagged lines, that turned into a bigger picture, which made even less sense to him than the feathers. "I want to feel the wind."

Alec's voice sounded far away as Magnus began to understand the shape of the scars on his back. They were long with edges frayed like the hem of his sweater, his collar, his sleeves and there were two of them. One around his right shoulder blade, the other moving in a kind of half circle around the left. A cold shiver ran down Magnus' spine, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his own hand shook slightly as he reached out to touch one of the scars, to make sure that it was really there and he wasn't hallucinating. Though he would have really preferred that at the moment, because the scars looked like something had been torn from the skin without any proper medical care to attend the wounds afterwards. 

"What happened to you?", he whispered, his voice frail and thin like dry leaves. Alec sat up straighter, when he felt Magnus' fingertips move across the scarred skin. 

"You can see them?", he asked breathlessly, but not daring to turn around. 

"What the-? Of course I can see them, what the hell happened to you? Who did this to you? What-?"

When Alec eventually turned around his eyes were calm, but calm like a storm when you moved with the wind instead of against it. His lips were a strict line, the childish naiveness from the beginning was gone. He tilted his head again, but this time the gesture was calculated. His legs had stopped swinging. The boy with the big, round eyes, the honest worry, the relaxed posture, melted away, leaving behind a hauntingly beautiful young man who was ready to take on the world, to make it pay for the pain it had bestowed upon him. 

"You want to know?", he whispered, his words like tiny shards of glass against Magnus' skin, but the soft burning from the cuts was addictive. Magnus couldn't look away, he couldn't run. "I can tell you,“ he continued, his lips curving into a smile, that was nothing more than a weapon. "I was born a falcon, but the sky became jealous of my eyes, because they were bluer than himself, than the sea, the night sky. He tore apart my wings and watched me helplessly tumbling towards the earth, but as I fell the wind took pity on me and granted me a human body, cushioning my fall. Though when the sky realized I might escape death and with that his wrath, he cursed me so every of my scattered feathers would get burned into my skin, covering up my scars, so nobody of my family, that might come looking for me, would recognize me. Since then I've been here, trying to fly again, but my human body is too heavy, the wind saved my life, but now I am imprisoned on earth and I don't know what's worse."

Silence followed loud enough to make Magnus' ears ring. His breathing had picked up, his throat was dry, goose bumps crawled across the skin of his arms. Alec only smiled lazily, exhausted. Too many tears had been shed while telling this story before. He couldn't cry no more. 

"But it's not like you're going to believe me,“ he whispered. Again, Magnus felt those thousands of fingertips against his skin, drawing slow circle, trying to calm him down. There was such honest sadness in blue depths. The sadness of someone being called a liar, ‘crazy’ and ‘nuts’ once too often. 

Alec got up and put his sweater back on, the warmth moving with him. Now Magnus felt panic rising within himself. Thousand voices screaming 'Stay!' at the same time. This boy, young man, Alec, Alexander was wearing more scars than he was wearing masks and he had already accepted his fate of living on his own, like the feather in his hairs, moved by the wind, but never taken away.

"I'll come back next week-"

"Stay." Magnus didn't know when he'd reached out to take Alec's wrist. His skin was warm and soft and it felt so right. Blue eyes grew round again, surprise flooding their depths, mixed with shock and disbelieve and a pounding heartbeat, excitement and maybe a few silent tears. "Stay,“ Magnus said again, his voice growing stronger. "And when you fall the next time I can catch you."

Because I want to know, how it sounds when you laugh, he thought. Don't stay bitter because of someone else's jealousy. 

And Alec stayed.

-+-

If you run fast enough, then maybe, sometimes, you can catch the wind.


	4. Spill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highschool: Magnus confronts an unsuspecting Alec who he is sure had been teasing him, but Alec has no idea what Magnus is talking about.

It wasn’t their first-first meeting, but it was definitely their first meeting-meeting. And it was the first time Alec met Magnus Bane, the guy from across the hall of his dorm at the library. Not to mention, that it was the first time they had something close to a full conversation.

“Okay, Lightwood, spill! What is your scheme?”

Alec blinked a few times trying to comprehend what was happening. One moment he was minding his own business, doing his homework and the next second Magnus stormed in, stopped in front of the table Alec was sitting at, put his hands down on said table in a rather threatening way, leaned forward and did his best to stare Alec down until there would be noting left of him apart from a pile of ashes. Magnus’ eyes were actually very pretty, well, the whole person was rather pretty, but the picture was kind of destroyed by the pure loathing directed at Alec.

“Uh, excuse me?,” Alec tried while he thought about which way to take, when his significant other would try to jump across the table to strangle him … for whatever reason.

“You know exactly what I am talking about,” Magnus hissed narrowing his eyes at him and Alec had to bite his tongue to keep from replying ’I wouldn’t be asking if I knew what crawled up your ass and died there.’ Instead he swallowed heavily and slowly closed the book he’d been reading. It would be easier to jump up and get a head start without anything occupying his hands. But as the silence between them stretched on, he realized, that the utter ignorance in his eyes wasn’t clear enough for Magnus to retreat … or explain for that matter.

“I’m afraid … I don’t … know?” Alec was actually damn proud about his voice staying calm like that while on the inside he was yelling ’I don’t know what you are talking about! Please don’t kill me!’. He let his fear play openly on his face in the hope of getting some sympathy.

“Oh really?” Magnus leaned forward a bit more, his face getting closer to Alec’s. “So, you’re saying, you just walk around without a shirt on on a daily occasion and not to be a big fat tease and drive the only openly bi guy in that damn dorm insane with your pale skin and those abs? And then you just happen to come by in the morning with nothing on but boxer shorts to ask for milk? Like, seriously, Lightwood? Milk??!! And then you just have that stupidly adorable smile on your face whenever you walk by or that you just happen to come back from the gym all sweaty and hot, just when I’m on my way to the club activities? Am I really supposed to believe this bullshit? That you just do this without a plan in mind to wreck my sanity? Hm? With your annoyingly blue eye and messy black hair.”

Hadn’t Alec been that terrified and confused at the same time he would have applauded Magnus for getting that whole angry monologue done without raising his voice above the volume, that was tolerated by the librarian. But as it was, he pretty much shrunk down in his chair, staring up at piercing green eyes, that almost seemed to glow. His thoughts were running berserk. What had he done? Had he been too open? Alec didn’t really have an issue with his own body and so far none of the other guys had complained about it. After all it wasn’t that he walked around naked.

Well, until now nobody had complained.

“Uh,” Alec tried and was glad that his voice hadn’t yet abandoned him. “Well, it-it was rather warm lately … and I like cornflakes for breakfast, so what’s wrong with milk?” Magnus didn’t back off and Alec’s voice was getting thinner. From the corner of his eye he could see Magnus digging his fingertips into a piece of paper with notes from the previous chapters Alec had already read. “And I swear I don’t know your schedule,” he eventually whispered.

For a few heartbeats there was only the sound of paper rustling. Alec could see Magnus’ jawline clench. Actually a very nice jawline. Alec thought about complimenting Magnus on it, maybe that would sway the other student from unleashing his rage upon Alec, but then Magnus spoke again and Alec found his whole attention drawn to the words and the furious glare directed at him.

“So you’re saying, that you’re just an average straight guy walking around half-naked most of the time?” There was a note of mockery in his voice and Alec felt his own stubbornness stirring underneath all that very prominent fear. What kind of issue did this guy have? And couldn’t he just politely ask Alec to put on a shirt if it bothered him so damn much? “Because I promise you if this is some stupid bet among those oh-so-cool guys from the football team of ‘How long it will take for you to get me to jump you?‘, I have to tell you, that I won’t play along. And that it’s totally not cool.” He raised one hand as if to reach out for Alec, but then seemed to change his mind and put it back down on the table. Alec pursed his lips. He began to get annoyed. He was still very much afraid, that Magnus would forget his good manners, but now there was something that always ruled over his fear, no matter in what situation he found himself, and that was being accused of something he hadn’t done.

“There’s no bet,” he muttered and his voice grew stronger with every word. He still remained sunken into his chair though because he didn’t want to push his luck … in what way however one could talk about luck currently. “I would never make anybody feel uncomfortable on purpose and if you are so bothered by bare skin, you could have just asked me to put on a damn shirt, I don’t even like any member of the football team … oh, and just for your information, I’m gay. And yes, I think, I am a very average guy, but well gay, not straight.”

Magnus had the decency to look surprised. He pushed himself off the table, crossed his arms in front of his chest, titled his head and looked down at Alec as if he was some experimental liquid, that had turned pink instead of exploding right away.

“Huh, really? Interesting,” he muttered and Alec would have thrown something at him if he hadn’t been so shell-shocked at the moment. Interesting? Seriously? The guy came in here, made a fuss about nothing and then found the fact, that Alec was gay, interesting? Then Magnus suddenly smiled and Alec was ready for the apocalypse to start the next second. “Well then, would you like to go for coffee tomorrow?”

“Are you kidding me?!”

The next day Alec found out that Magnus Bane didn’t kid when it came to dates.


	5. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec as the ruler of the Sea and the Wind/Sky that are so close yet so far apart.

Did you know, that the sky and the sea were kingdoms with a delicate border? What they had wasn’t really peace, but more like a mutual understanding of each other’s nature, their forces.Yet, there was always a tension between their inhabitants because the sea creatures envied the birds for having no boundaries above sea or land and the birds feared the unpredictable strength of the waves, the laughter of the sea creatures followed them back into the heights of the sky, when they rose with an empty stomach. The rulers of these kingdoms were silent though, the wind himself, the storm, only carried the words of others without ever uttering one himself. The Lord of the water enjoyed the ruthless ways of the sea, only the best would survive, not always the strongest, not always the smartest.

There were many legends about those two rulers and none of them were right, some were close, but they never held the whole truth. Sailors claimed to have seen a young boy, not older than 20, standing on top of the waves, walking on the ocean’s surface. They thought, the boy with the pale skin, the black pullover, black pants and bare feet to be a messenger on his way to the palace under the sea. Little did they know, that it was the storm himself, calm and collected that day.

Others were sure, that they had glimpsed a human shape among schools of dolphins, diving with a group of orcas, a pair of green green eyes among the thousands of schooling fishes. Maybe it’s a mermaid, they whispered, maybe a servant of the water’s lord. Maybe on his way to the castle in the sky, where the storm resided. 

They didn’t know, knew nothing at all.

The two rulers had never met. Until the screaming, yelling, crying became too much for the storm to handle.

-+-

Alec wanted to press his hands against his ears, shut out the mourning cries, the pleading prayers send his way. All those wishes he couldn’t fulfill. All those prayers for the people, who had died at sea. And there had been more and more lately. People drowned and even after a cruise liner had sank, there wasn’t a single survivor. That wasn’t natural, Alec knew it. Death was always there, of course, and when a ship sank, the sea creatures always claimed a few, but never before had they been so fierce, so bloodthirsty. It had become a risk to even set foot on a ship these days. Mermaids and sirens were more aggressive then ever.

And when the prayers had turned to curses Alec had decided to call upon him, the one voice that could calm the ocean. Until now he had only been a name.  
“MAGNUS!” The call travelled across the smooth surface of the sea, leaving nothing but fine ripples behind, but Alec could feel the impact his call had. Forces travelled through the water, that he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“You called,” a smooth voice sounded from right behind him and Alec spun around to look upon a young man, standing way too close with such green eyes and a lazy smile. “So, we meet at last, ruler of the sky,” Magnus drawled, his eyes tracing every inch of Alec’s face. His hair was wet, lose strands plastered on his forehead. He didn’t have a crown or something similar, but then again, neither did Alec. Magnus didn’t have webbed fingers and Alec didn’t have wings. Magnus’ eyes changed color with the movement of the waves and Alec’s got darker with the passing time of a day until the next sunrise lit them up again. They weren’t inhabitants of an element, they were the heart of the element.

“I wanted to talk to you about the rising numbers of drowning people,” Alec explained while he gripped Magnus’ wrists to keep the other’s fingers from brushing against the skin of his face, his neck, but he couldn’t really, because Magnus had longer, slim fingers. Nobody could stop water from touching skin once they had broken the surface.

“Why do you care?” Magnus’ voice was warm, the look in his eyes so cold. He consisted of layers of warm and cold streams. His wrists slipped out of Alec’s grip and Magnus’ arms settled on his shoulders, their faces so close, that Alec could smell the salt, could feel fingers playing absent-mindedly with his ink-black hair.  
“Because I am not deaf. I hear the people cursing the wind, the sea, pleading for their loved ones to come back.”

Magnus tilted his head, studying Alec’s anger like some exotic fish, that wasn’t supposed to live in cold waters. “I’m not deaf, little bird,” the lord of the water whispered and when Alec wanted to reject that nickname, there was a single, but very demanding finger pressed against his lips. Magnus softly shook his head. “I simply choose to ignore them. I don’t care.”

“How can you not care?” The finger was roughly yanked from pale lips, blue eyes bored into green ones. Magnus didn’t let himself get deterred by the other’s anger in any way though. No, instead there was a noble kind of displeasure visible in his expression.

“They are always given a choice”, he explained calmly, slowly retracing his arms from Alec’s shoulders, like a cold current washing over bare skin. “They can die drowning or live, becoming one of the sea creatures. Ten years in service of the ocean and they’ll be granted a return to land.” A short silence. A soft breeze brushed across the dark skin of Magnus’ bare chest, necklaces of seashells and corals whispered a quiet tune. Alec could feel him shiver, could feel everything the wind touched as if it were right beneath his fingertips. “It has always been that way … and most of them don’t want to leave after those years.”

Alec clenched his jaw. “Of course they don’t, because they don’t remember, what it was like to be human.” He started as the water underneath his bare feet turned to ice, tiny crystals dug in to his skin. Not deep enough to draw blood. 

“Some still remember,” Magnus whispered, “some never forget and yet they stay.” His eyes were dark as graves. The line of his lips strict and narrow. Carefully Alec tried to pry his feet from the ice. It worked and as soon as he took a step back, away from the frozen patch it crumbled, melting back into the sea.

Like himself, the ruler of the sea had once been human, but just like himself, Magnus had given up on the world and had been given an ultimate choice. Die or become eternal, a part of another reality, another world. “You were drowned,” Alec whispered. 

Magnus spread his arms as if to point at the vastness of the ocean surrounding them, the endlessness of the sky looming above them. His smile was cruel and jagged like a shark’s teeth. “Yes, my father drowned me, but I lived, little bird. I lived and so can they.”

“But-”

“Oh, don’t play the innocent bystander in this whole game.” With one step Magnus was close again, one arm around Alec’s waist the other under his chin making it impossible to look anywhere else but at the lord of the water surrounding them. Alec could feel little water drops sliding down the skin of his face, caressing the line of his neck like countless kisses. “Storm and Sea equally are at fault when a ship sinks.” His voice had taken on a low, alluring tone. Like the crashing of the waves against an empty beach.

“It’s your nature, too, little bird.” The whisper made Alec want to close his eyes, but he fought against that urge, the urge to simply melt into the other’s touch. Why had he been angry again?

“During thunderstorms you just lose yourself and you love it, you have that side as well as me, that rough, uncaring cruelty, it is intoxicating, am I right?” A single finger slowly traced the line one of the water drops had taken before. Was it the same finger that had been pressed against his lips before? He didn’t know, he didn’t care. He wanted to say something, but there were no words when he opened his mouth.

“We both like to rebel against the border separating our worlds with all our might, but at the same time we know that it will never break, as well as we will always be driven by that longing …” The wandering finger had reached Alec’s collarbone. Their lips were so close, that they could almost already taste each other.

“We both know what will happen if this goes any further,” Alec muttered. He was dimly aware of the unnatural calm around them. The water didn’t move, not even a ripple and there wasn’t any movement in the air, simply nothing to mask two wildly beating hearts. There was a border separating their kingdoms for a reason and yet none of them stopped.

The moment they kissed the world around them exploded. Sharks, whales, dolphins broke through the surface at the same the sky erupted with the screeching sounds of thousand birds, falcons, eagles, hawks, owls, everything. Claws extended, fangs bared they attacked each other, Magnus and Alec kissing in their middle, being torn apart by the fighting. Alec felt himself engulfed by feathers of every color, they obscured his line of vision. Magnus got dragged underwater by the claws of hissing mermaids one last smile on his lips, one last ‘Goodbye, little bird’ sent towards Alec without a sound.

This could never happen, it would never happen.

-+-

Since that day Alec realized that the closest they would ever be able to get to each other was during thunderstorms when their kingdoms were in such an uproar, that nobody would notice their fleeting touches. The worse the storm, the better. And he decided to ignore the pleas, the curses, the mourning, he didn’t drown anymore in those wishes, that he couldn’t fulfill anyway.

They decided to meet at the spot of their first meeting during every storm and it would always be the heart of the thunderstorm where the waves rose the highest, where the storm howled the loudest. After some time even the humans knew about that spot even though they knew nothing about its story. They gave the spot a name like they did draw pictures of Alec with wings and Magnus with webbed fingers.

The Bermuda Triangle. 

-+-

Sailors say, that the storm once fell for the sea and ever since they dance with each other, sinking ships, drowning people at the same time because they have never learned to express their feelings for each other with kindness.  
It’s part of the truth.


	6. Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highschool: Alec runs into Magnus who is about to spray something on a teacher’s car.

Alec wouldn’t call himself ‘shy’, really. 'Extremely bad at making small talk’, yes. He didn’t like big crowds of people, indeed. The words he wanted to say came out too quiet for the rest of the world, sure as hell, but he simply didn’t want to scream across the classroom or a counter. Unfortunately that led to people leaning closer to him when they asked him to repeat his words and Alec wasn’t good at dealing with that either. Eyes always got too big up close and most people had bad breath.   
Or maybe Alec was just sensitive in that regard, that could be totally possible as well.

Still, considering all of these things it would have been better to take the main entrance that one day after school instead of taking the shortcut across the teacher’s parking lot. He should have tried to deal with his animosity against big crowds of loud students instead of provoking a rather awkward encounter with Magnus Bane.  
The whole school knew the name despite him being barely present most of the school year. But every time he did show up, there was an uproar one way or another. Alec was sure, that the teachers had a picture of him hung up in the faculty room to throw darts at. It was one of the biggest mysteries how Magnus had managed not to get expelled yet. Alec had also thought, that he wasn’t at school this day. Turns out, he was there, just not inside, but outside kneeling next to one of the more expensive cars in the parking lot … and spraying paint on it. As Alec looked closer it was the word 'Ugly’ in a deep red color. Great.

The moment he turned around the last corner of the path that led to the parking lot, Alec froze. The hissing noise of the spray can filled his ears, fear crawled across his neck and bit deep into his heart. What should he do? Should he say something and risk being beaten up? Should he simply turn around, use the main entrance and pretend he hadn’t seen anything? Should he call a teacher?

In the end Magnus made the choice for him. The hissing of the spray can stopped as he finished the 'Y’ and got up from the ground next to the car. Then he turned around, his eyes finding Alec instantly. The lower half of Magnus’ face was covered with a mask to keep him from inhaling the toxic fumes. Alec appreciated that, though whatever teacher owned that car probably wouldn’t. Magnus pulled off the mask and left it dangling around his neck. Had his face been difficult to read before due to only his eyes being visible, was it now pretty clear that Magnus wasn’t amused.

“What are you doing here?”, he growled, careful not to yell and draw possible attention to him, even tough he looked like he really wanted to. “The main entrance is the other way.”

“Shortcut,” Alec managed to get out, too silent once again of course. Magnus’ eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and Alec braced himself for the other coming closer, staring him down, snarling probably, telling him to speak up and-

“Where the heck do you live, that this-” Magnus waved at the other entrance/exit of the parking lot. “-is a shortcut to the place?”

Alec couldn’t blame him because in this direction there wasn’t much left until the fields around the city started, but currently he was too occupied with speechlessly staring at Magnus to be insulted by the incredulous tone. ’He heard me,’ a little voice in the back of his mind whispered. That was new. Alec noticed, that he was staring and he also noticed, that Magnus was raising his eyebrows expectantly. Right, there had been a question.

“Uh, ice cream,” Alec muttered, desperately willing his voice to keep at least its usual volume because as good as Magnus’ ears seemed to be Alec somehow doubted, the the other had the talent of lipreading … or mind reading. And if he got more quiet with every word, at some point Magnus had to get closer to understand him and as long as he was farther away, it would be harder for him to punch Alec. Hadn’t there been something about that in physics?

“Ice cream?”

Alec swallowed heavily. 'Maybe he forgets, that I saw him spraying paint on the car if I can distract him long enough,’ he thought. “There’s a small supermarket back there, that has very good ice cream.” Yes, his voice was shaking, his nerves were jingling. He really wanted to be somewhere else right now, but his feet were glued to the ground.

“It’s the middle of February”, Magnus stated matter-of-factly. Alec bit his lower lip. He looked to the right and yes, okay, there was still brown slush sticking to some of the other cars’ tires. He knew which month it was, he wasn’t stupid after all, but he liked ice cream. Others started grilling when it got warmer and Alec had never gotten the concept of making a fire when it already was hot outside, but did he go around questioning people about that? No.

“I know,” he muttered pouting a bit. “I still like ice cream … it’s not like I’m forcing you to get some, too.”

Footsteps got closer and Alec’s head whipped back around so fast he was at the danger of whiplash. Magnus was walking towards him and Alec was sure, that it would happen now. They had ended the ice cream-discussion and the other had remembered why Alec had stopped instead of hurrying past the 'ugly’-car to get some damn ice cream. Would Magnus simply threaten him into staying quiet, would he get beaten? Usually Alec was too invisible at school to catch a hit, but he felt very visible at the moment.

Nothing happened.

Magnus simply walked past him visibly amused as Alec frantically scrambled away. He headed for a bag that had been propped up against the low wall surrounding the parking lot, dumped the spray can into it and took out another color. Blue.

“I-I promise, I won’t say anything,” Alec hurried to promise. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or insulted at Magnus’ half-hearted snort.

“As if I am scared of you running to the principle. He’ll know it was me anyway and by the time you get back with him or someone else, I’ll be gone already. So, I’d say 'Don’t bother’.”

Alec stared at the mischievous grin thrown his way. It was strangely alluring and he couldn’t quite explain why the already risen heat in his cheeks increased even more. Magnus’ grin widened.

“What’s the matter, shy boy? You’ve been hoping for some action, maybe even some blackmailing material? Well, I hate to disappoint.” He didn’t look very heartbroken, but there was something else, that struck a nerve inside Alec. 

“I’m not shy,” he muttered frowning. What could he say? He had his priorities. 

Magnus looked him up and down with the lazy curiousness of a cat and Alec wanted to hide in a hole, wanted to take back his words, wanted to have taken the damn main entrance earlier.

“Oh, really?” There was something about the way Magnus drew out the words … just something, something new to Alec. Good or bad? He wasn’t sure. How he managed the shaking nod in answer was beyond him.

Alec didn’t like the word 'shy’ because it was used so often as a simple excuse, a way to sexualize honest fear or to cover up anxieties, make them sound less serious, make them sound like something else, something, that wasn’t an issue to be worried about. 'Oh, don’t worry, she’s just shy.’ 'Come on, don’t be shy.’ 'No need to be shy.’ He didn’t like the word and had never wanted to carry it as a description for himself, end of story. So, he had begun to find other ways to describe himself. Unfortunately others didn’t really catch on to that.

While Alec broodingly stared at the ground in front of him, Magnus really moved closer to him this time. Reluctantly Alec looked up eventually and was met with green eyes, that were surprisingly pleasant to look at even this close. He could see the colorful glitter in Magnus’ hair and the rings in his ear and the smile on his lips … wait, smile?

Alec blinked, but the other student indeed smiled at him. Blood rushed into his head and Alec was sure, he looked rather unhealthy by now, his face had to have the color of a ripe pomegranate. A really ripe one. Almost spoiled. Then the smile turned into a smirk and Magnus tilted his head. Of course. 

The sensation of a soft touch against he side of his throat startled Alec so bad, he would have almost jumped back a step. Magnus tapped a simple rhythm against Alec’s skin. Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap. Green eyes kept watching Alec as he tried really hard not to start squirming. His face was burning and Magnus’s eyes were actually quite pretty and - oh, eyeliner. Interesting.

“You are shy, my friend,” Magnus whispered. “and cute.” And terrified, Alec wanted to add, but then he noticed that that wasn’t the case anymore. Then there was that smile again, kind of warm and alarmingly harmless.

“Want me to tell you a secret, shy boy?” Yeah, Alec definitely didn’t like that nickname. Fingertips disappeared from his neck and instead patted his cheek softly. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Alec’s face cooled down a bit. “I don’t like that word.” He sighed.

Magnus took away his hand and looked at Alec for a few heartbeats as if he was contemplating something. Then he nodded to himself, though Alec had not the slightest clue as to what he had decided. Of course Magnus didn’t explain himself. He just walked over to his bag, put the blue spray can back inside and then picked up the bag up from the ground. When he was back at Alec’s side, he grabbed the other’s hand and dragged him off the parking lot.

“What the-? Hey, where are you taking me?” A part of the fear from the beginning came back and Alec wondered if he’d now get murdered in the fields behind the school as he stumbled along after Magnus.

“I want to try that ice cream you were talking about.”

Alec would have almost fallen flat on his face at that, but he didn’t because Magnus Bane securely held his hand.


	7. Cold/Sleepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot-stuff: It’s basically a ‘what if sleeping beauty ran away to escape her curse’-scenario. :-) With Magnus being Sleeping Beauty. He was cursed to die at his eighteenth birthday by pricking his finger on a spindle (maybe something more modern as I like to set these stories in a modern context), but as his eighteenth birthday neared and his parents locked him inside more and more to keep him save when he turned eighteen and - to be sure - the year that follows. But Magnus runs away as far as he can to escape his curse because he can’t stand being locked in all the time. He also hopes to find more powerful magical beings further north to break his curse. Along the way he almost dies, but is found by Alec, a wolf-shifter, who takes him to the village/town/city where he lives with his pack. (Alec as alpha :D)
> 
> And that’s as far as my plot-something goes. :3 Of course the wolves decide to help Magnus. ;3

It was cold and the snow was still falling, but the wind had picked up around midnight which sent the snowflakes into a dancing frenzy. This way the couldn’t completely hide the human that had stumbled into a snowbank close to the main pathway through the forest. The human was male and easy to spot despite the darkness, like a smudge of ink on clean paper. Carefully Alec moved closer 

The town’s people had been busy preparing some human holiday the whole day, so he’d taken off for a run through the forest to quiet the bussing noise in his ears, that those many voices had become, and to ease his high-strung nerves. But as it seemed, not even here he could get away from the human race. 

Cautiously Alec sniffed at the human’s face. He looked younger than he’d first thought. The lines of his face relaxed as if he were sleeping, so peaceful, and Alec wondered why he shouldn’t just leave him here. What did the life of a random human matter to him anyway? Was there even a chance for this one?  
His fur protected Alec against the cold, but humans didn’t have fur. It was one of the things which annoyed him the most about his human form, the almost constant shivering. Humans shouldn’t be out int his kind of weather … but for some reason this one was. Alec snorted, a gust of thin fog hitting the human’s face. The people at the town had given Alec and his pack shelter, had allowed them to live with them, had agreed to teach them the human ways, had decided on a hunting ban for wolves on their land … that probably made a random human life matter to him the same way their lives had mattered to the town’s people when they were random wolves. Just because, just because death wasn’t always meant for those who stumbled into the grim reaper’s arms.

Suddenly the human moved. The lines of his face stood out stronger giving the face sharp angles. He looked more exhausted than tired now. Then Alec was face with two eyes looking up at him, hazy and unfocused through cracked open eyelids. A weak laugh broke frozen lips apart. 

“You’ve found me … after all.” The human’s voice was hoarse and scratchy, but for some reason it made Alec’s heart speed up. There was a smile on those frozen lips, there were tears somewhere deep within those eyes. A shivering hand slowly emerged from the thin blanket of snow that the wind had allowed to settle on the human’s dark clothes. The hand reached for Alec, but didn’t have the strength to touch him. Feebly it fell back into the snow. The smile was fading, those eyes drifting close.

“Take me with you … just … just let me seep … just a bit longer.”

The dying heartbeat sounded so loud in Alec’s ears that it drowned out the howling of the wind.   
-+-  
Magnus had always loved legends and myths because he was addicted to that little bit of truth that could be found in all of them. The one he loved most was the one about a spirit that wandered the earth as a wolf with a coat as white as snow. He would appear those who froze to death to lead them safely to the other side. 

None oft the legends had mentioned anything about the spirit’s eyes being so blue.  
-+-  
When Magnus woke again he was shivering violently. After some struggling he managed to get his eyes open. The first thing that met his gaze was a simple wooden ceiling, dim light flickering across the wooden beams. Carefully he turned his head to the right. Blue eyes, but the white fur was missing. 

Something was different about the figure as well, but Magnus was exhausted and willing his eyes to focus burned a lot of energy. Voices, soft. A dancing light. Pale skin, no fur. Magnus had liked the fur, so pretty. He closed his eyes again, just for a second. What had happened to the wolf? What would happen to himself now?

When Magnus opened his eyes again, it was less of a struggle. It felt like only seconds to him, but now the flickering light was gone. No blue eyes. No voices. No pale skin. The wooden ceiling was still there. He was so tired. His fingertips prickled and he wanted to rub them against each other, but found out that he couldn’t move his arms. There was warmth slowly crawling across his skin. Heavy warmth. 

He was so exhausted. Had he managed to run away? Had he been caught? What had happened to the wolf?

When Magnus woke the third time something wet was pressed against his cheek. He turned his head figuring that the weight on his body, on his arms were blankets. Somebody had tucked him in, making a cocoon around him. He didn’t mind. He didn’t feel like moving much at the moment anyway. He just wanted to look, keep his eyes open for just a second longer to gaze into those blue eyes that were so close to him now, even closer than when he’d been outside, dying in the snow. White fur surrounded the eyes, tickled Magnus’ chin. It felt good. Voices sounded far away. Magnus was still tired, but he felt better now. He managed a smile. 

“You’re fine”, he croaked at the wolf and didn’t know why. “That’s good.” He had so many questions.


	8. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt!Alec just found out that his boyfriend had been cheating on him, fortunately a total stranger walks by with the desire to comfort him.
> 
> Warning: heartbreak, mentions of suicide

It was around 9 p.m. and Magnus was on his way home from work when he walked into a sudden whirlwind of photographs. The pictures were torn apart, each carrying parts of laughing faces, parts of memories torn from a screaming mind. When he looked up it was just in time to see two pale hands throw out the next load of shredded pictures from a window on the third floor of the building he’d just been passing. Once again Magnus was engulfed by the remains of lighter days, happier moments, just memories. The ground around his feet looked like a piece of modern art and he was sure that if someone would take a picture of him standing there from above, that one could be sold for a lot of money. 

The sound of something fragile hitting a wall shattering to pieces, dropping to the ground, yanked Magnus out of his thoughts. Silence. Then again. And again. And again. The silence between the crashing sound became the rhythm of Magnus’ breathing. Something bigger was thrown over and worry bloomed in Magnus’ chest.

-+-

Alec couldn’t scream despite all that screeching anger inside of his head. All that passed his lips were sobs, his eyes drowning in hot tears. He threw things against the wall of his atelier until there was nothing left to throw and he was too exhausted to keep doing it anyway. He just sank to his knees and kept breathlessly sobbing, filling the silence with his pain. 

He had thought everything was okay, going fine. He had been so wrong. He had been cheated on. A couple of months and he hadn’t even realized it until the words were thrown at his face.

“I met someone." 

Three words. It was so easy to mess everything up. Just as much as you needed for ‘I love you’. Cruel irony of the world.

"This isn’t working anymore, Alec.”

He had thought it was, but obviously had been wrong. How could someone just scratch five years up to 'it’s not working’. Alec looked down at his hands pressed against the wooden floor of his atelier. His lungs were greedily sucking in the air they had been robbed of by the floods of tears, the sobbing. 

“I’m such an idiot”, Alec whispered to himself. He felt his tears slowly drying on his cheeks. He closed his eyes and let his forehead sink down to rest it against he back of his hands. 

Maybe he would get tonight. Maybe tomorrow he would swear to never drink again and throw up. Maybe he would go for ice cream tomorrow. He didn’t feel like leaving his apartment this evening. 

So this was what heartbreak felt like. This was what it took.

One person.

One heart given away too thoughtlessly. 

The buzzer sounded when Alec started contemplating to spend the night on the wooden floor.

-+-

It was sheer luck that Magnus could figure out which one was the doorbell of the apartment on the third floor which was probably suffering from a sudden loss of photographs at the moment … and intact interior judging by the earlier sounds. There was a sign next to one of the many names. The building didn’t look that big from the street, but it seemed to have a lot of inhabitants. 

Alexander Lightwood  
Photographer   
3\. Floor

The sign was handwritten and Magnus found it endearing for some reason. So small, so unimpressive, so simple. A clean script. Magnus’ lips curved into a little intimate smile and then he shook his head because it was ridiculous to form any kind of attachment to simple handwriting.

Without further ado he simply pressed the buzzer. He had thought of just walking away, leaving whoever was upset up there to figure things out on their own. From rather harsh personal experience Magnus knew that one was better left alone in these moments … most of the time. But people called their friends in these moods, right? Why wasn’t there anybody hurrying down the street to get to the door Magnus was currently standing in fron of? With some alcohol, maybe ice cream, maybe just some take out. Why was there nobody else pressing the buzzer so viciously like Magnus did right now. Weren’t there at least some neighbors looking for the source of the noise?

Maybe there were. Maybe somebody was already on the way. Magnus decided to just check in on whoever felt like letting out their frustration on innocent pieces of furniture. Yes, he thought, just one minute to make sure that nobody was on the verge of doing something really stupid like … cold fear crawled across his neck as dark images surfaced again. A dark room, sunlight flooding in from the only window. He had been too late back then. Things could have been so different if he’d been just one minute earlier. 

Just one.

Magnus didn’t notice that he’d been pressing the buzzer with more force than necessary until his finger started aching. Like he’d been burned he took his hand back. The silence following the dull sound of the ringing was cold as ice. Then a voice. One exhausted breath. 

“Yes?”  
A sudden rush of relief.   
“Are you okay?”

-+-

Alec looked at the speaker. His exhaustion was partly replaced by confusion. "Excuse me?“ 

"Are. You. Okay?”, the voice repeated slowly, like the other was suspecting Alec to be a clueless five-year-old. Irritation followed confusion. 

“Who are you?”

“I saw you throwing out those torn pictures and then I heard that something was thrown at a wall and … I wanted to make sure that you are okay.” Alec peered at the shards of coffee cups his boyf- his ex had been keeping at Alec’s place. There were more, but he doubted that he’d get the same satisfaction from throwing a toothbrush against the wall. 

“I’m not”, he said more to himself than whoever was standing down there at the door. His eyes lingered on the chaos he had created. No, he wasn’t okay. He was alive. He wasn’t physically hurt. But he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t fine. He didn’t want to smile right now. 

“Do … do you think about … hurting yourself?”

Alec’s eyes snapped back to the speaker. The green light was blinking in the top right corner. The sign of somebody listening? He wasn’t sure. 

“No.” His muscles were aching, his body was begging for a break. He was so tired. He didn’t even want to get drunk anymore. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to wake up and find everything unharmed. Nothing more than a bad dream. No, he didn’t think about hurting himself, he had been hurt enough for one day. “I’m too tired for it anyway … just tell me what you want and then get lost. I’m not taking new orders till next week.” Or month. Maybe in a few days he could already laugh about this mess, though something told him that it would be hysterical laughter turning into gross sobbing at best. 

“Would you let me up for a minute, so I can make sure of that?”

Alec stared at the speaker incredulously. The fuck?

-+-

Magnus already had one hand on the handle of the entrance door ready to get inside at the shortest sound of the buzzer. Unfortunately for now there was only silence. 

“Why?” Disbelieve. Open and clear. Magnus could practically see the hands thrown up in the air in the way people did to underline their incomprehension of another’s behavior. He smiled. He wanted to see the expression of the face that belonged to the voice. He had already decided not to walk away this time.

“My mother hung herself after my father told her that he wanted a divorce”, he explained. At least that was what he’d been told. What had really passed between his parents that evening, he didn’t know, would never know. Magnus’ hand slipped from the door handle to be pressed against his forehead. His eyes slipped closed. His breath vibrated in his chest, ripples of old sadness passed over his skin. “I heard the chair fall over later, but I didn’t go into her room to look … I thought it was nothing, something accidentally pushed from the nightstand.” The wind picked up taking some of the shreds on the sidewalk away, carrying them down the street. The distance grew between them and the aching heart on the third floor. “I’m not going to make the mistake twice. Once was enough. So, please, just let me up for a minute, just one. Let me see that you’re … well, not okay, but at least, that you’re going to be okay again. I know, I’m a stranger and this is probably the creepiest thing you’ve experienced today and maybe it’s just selfish, but-”

He was interrupted by the sound of the buzzer. Magnus had never taken three flights of stairs this fast.

-+-

Sometimes it only takes one heart to heal another.

Just one.


	9. Sanction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magician!Alec is scared for his life because the gods have decided to take back the gift of magic from the humans by killing every last magician, but Death has different plans for Alec.

Too many people. Too many colors. Voices turning into insistent buzzing in the background, almost drowned out by Alec’s panting, the rushing of blood in his ears. The muscles of his legs were screaming, but his feet wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Drops of sweat were clinging to his temples. His body wasn’t used to be outside for this long, running like this all of a sudden.

The palace of Idris was a sheer monstrosity and one could get easily lost in that endless sea of hallways that all looked the same. Alec could personally attest to that as he’d experienced quite a few desperate encounters with the guards there when he was younger. Unfortunately even the journeys throughout that building with seemingly no boundaries didn’t really provide a human body with the necessary stamina to run away without any help or another way of transport than his own feet. In addition to that Alec mostly knew the city outside from maps because the king kept an even closer watch on his whereabouts than on his own children. Alec had been barely allowed to leave the palace for a simple stroll through the gardens that were build in the open area that was surrounded by the circular building of the palace. Really, the man gave the ‘chained’ in 'chained magician’ a whole new meaning. 

Alec managed to stumble into a narrow alleyway. He pressed his back against the stonewall of some house and hoped that nobody would happen to look out of the window just then. A second later Alec realized it was a dead end and bit back a curse. But he could already hear the voices of the soldiers that were after him getting closer, so he simply tried to simply slip even further into the softer shadows of the afternoon sun. His lungs were greedily sucking in the dry, hot air. His legs were shaking, but even the last drop of sweat turned to ice when he could hear the soldiers just outside the alleyway.

'Please’, Alec silently prayed, 'please let this work.’ It always did in stories, right? Desperate tears trembled on his lips. Please. He didn’t want to die. Not today, not tomorrow. 

Alec had thought about his future since the day of the first whisper about publicly slaughtered magicians had reached the court of Idris. He had been wondering for some time now how long the gods would turn a blind eye to the humans’ constant ambition to surpass them, using magic and therefore the chained magicians of the the human kingdoms as their weapon. Unfortunately the gods had decided to simply eliminate the weapon instead of teaching the users a lesson. And now there were news about dead magicians all over the continent, struck down by the gods’ executioners who were out to find every last one of them in the world, spill their blood, eliminate the last link between humankind and the sky kingdoms. 

The solution Alec had come up with was running away. Hiding. It was stupid, but then again he didn’t hope to hide from the executioners, but to buy himself time to think of a way to save his skin. 

His whole world had been the palace for the past twenty years. He was sure he had had family somewhere, but he didn’t have any memories of them. He had no real friends at the palace, had never been given the chance at a real relationship because he was the exotic, dangerous bird in that golden cage. People had been either scared of him or simply treated him like property. But Alec knew that there was more to life than an existence in chains. There had to be something to trade for his life, but he needed more time to figure this out. The other magicians he’d heard from so far were all found inside the palace to deliver a message: 'The god’s judgement could strike everywhere. Walls, doors and locks were no hindrances to their executioners.’ The closer guarded the slaughtered magician was, the better.

That’s what Alec speculated on with running away. There was no safe place for people like him right now, but maybe by running away, being in a public area with no guards, the king hopefully not even knowing where he was heading, he was less interesting for the Ravens. Everybody could be killed in the middle of the market square. Not much of a show there. Sure, it would create a mass panic probably, but it wouldn’t be a big achievement for the gods. At least that’s what Alec hoped for. That they would go for the closely guarded magicians first. 

His heart almost stopped when he heard the soldiers stop close to the alleyway doing there usual “You look over there”-routine. Alec’s fingertips were digging into the solid stone behind his back. Of course for his plan to work, he’d have to get of these guys first. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, staring at the sky above his head. He didn’t want to use his magic on his escape because it would draw attention to him and would exhaust him even further, but he wouldn’t let them drag him back to his hellhole where he’d end up locked up like the fucking crown jewels and with that probably with a giant 'kill me’-mark on his head. 

Trying to slow down his pulse, to force back the pounding in his ears so he could form a calm thought, Alec called on the power that had been buzzing right beneath his skin since he was born. He opened his eyes again, his gaze locked on the entry of the alleyway. The sound of heavy steps got closer, the clanking of metal. Should he kill them? No, definitely not. He should-

The world around him turned dark. It wasn’t the darkness that covered the city with nightfall. It was just like a black curtain had been dropped over him, but then it was lifted and Alec found himself face to face with a young man whose body was covered with a black cloak. Silver stitching ran across the the dark fabric. The man’s skin was dark, his hair black like Alec’s own, though that looked more like ink because of his pale skin. Vibrant green eyes were focused on him with that sort of lazy interest. The air around them was so calm, cooler, gently caressing Alec’s heated skin, brushing away the drying sweat. The voices from the market square died down, were far away all of a sudden. Somewhere in the distance the flapping of wings could be heard. Alec didn’t see them, but he knew that the soldiers were dead one way or another, simply struck down without any sign of injury. The man in front of him smiled when he raised the scythe he carried in his right hand. The blade was surrounded by a soft, play glow. It was a scene of cruel beauty and Alec couldn’t look away, couldn’t move when the edge of the scythe kissed the skin of his neck. 

“Got you.” A Raven had found him.

The gods didn’t kill by themselves. They would never taint their hands with human blood, maybe with blood at all. No, they had their executioners, the four Reapers, one to reign during each season. The Reapers again had each six Ravens at their command when the orders included deaths spread across the whole world. There were stories that it was also the Ravens’ job to collect the souls of dead people, that the last thing one would see in their life was the feather of a Raven.

Absent-mindedly Alec noted the black feathers covering the ground around his feet. He was frozen in fear. So many times had he thought about his eventual meeting with one of the Reaper’s servants, what he would say, how he would try to negotiate for his life. Now he found himself unable to utter even a single syllable. 

-+-

Magnus had heard so many stories about those eyes, but all them did only little to prepare him for seeing them in person.

Eyes so blue, so clear, so cold. Blessed with a heart, so golden, so warm, so honest. 

Humans saw the magicians as special people in general, but they had no idea about the gems that were hidden among those. Only the gods knew as they had blessed a few selected families with more than just magic so many centuries ago. Now they regretted their gifts to humanity and wanted them all dead.

But death wasn’t as easy as they thought. The Reapers knew that better than anybody and with them the Ravens knew as well. Eliminating the last link between the gods and humans would harm the balance of the world in a way that couldn’t easily been repaired. 

Magnus smiled at the young magician in front of him. There was a frantic heartbeat in the other’s chest that Magnus would have loved to claim for himself. There was fear in those blue eyes which could see more than anybody else if they were taught what to look for. Magnus felt the desire to wash that fear away, to have those eyes focused on him in a more … intimate way.

“What a foolish thought”, he whispered, his smile turning into a smirk when confusion crossed the magician’s face. “What foolish desires.” Then he raised his scythe and cut right through the other’s middle. Blue eyes were squeezed shut. A lean body was tensed in the anticipation of pain.

There was no blood splattered across the pavement of the alleyway that was actually a dead end. Grey robes weren’t torn. The grimace of fear relaxed. The whole body of the magician relaxed as his knees gave in. He would have hit the pavement if Magnus hadn’t caught him. He pressed his scythe against the silver stitching of his cloak and the instrument of death turned into just another piece of the pattern running across dark fabric. Then he picked up the young man, holding him securely in both arms, pressing his face against the crook of his own neck. Calm, even breaths hit the Raven’s skin. A pleasant feeling. 

“You were sure you’d die today, huh?”, Magnus whispered, his words getting lost among inky strands. “Let me tell you a secret …”

The Reapers knew about the consequences of separating the sky and the earth kingdoms completely, so they’d decided to each choose a magician that they would leave alive and hide from the gods until the time would come to start anew. Maybe after another thousand generations the humans would be ready to get a second chance in dealing with magic. Until then these four magicians would be kept under the watch of one of the Ravens. 

“You’re time hasn’t come yet.”

Until it was time to wake up again.


	10. Montserrat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artist!Magnus wakes up after a one night-stand with Alec who is blind on one eye.

Magnus dreamt of Montserrat.

Of stepping into the basilica on the island, of watching the lazy rays of sunshine crawl across the cold stone floor, of the gold ornaments climbing up the walls, of the dust clouds dancing in the sunlight. And as he was right between waking up and still being asleep, he felt deep contentment flooding his body, but at the same time he noticed the strong yearning of finding such calm beauty again.

Magnus dreamt of going back there again. 

Then he was awake and everything became a simple memory, but he was greeted by blue eyes and for a moment he could hear the waves crashing against the rocks of Montserrat. A smile accompanied the eyes, pale skin was there as well as black hair. Usually Magnus wasn’t too fond of the color black because it had to be handled so carefully when being mixed with other colors, take too much and you’d never get the light back into a picture. But he actually really enjoyed seeing his fingers comb through those dark strands. He was just about to say ‘Good Morning’ when -

“I found your paintings.” A voice, soft as the strokes of a new brush against sensitive skin, dark and kind of heavy, kind of warm. Not too much of either part.

Magnus couldn’t help but chuckle as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I told you I’m a painter.” The young man he’d met at the bar the evening before simply shrugged. The smile didn’t leave his face though. 

“Yeah, but still …”, he whispered turning his gaze towards the open door that led to Magnus’ atelier. He had an exhibition coming up so he’d taken the pictures that usually hung around his place off the walls and stacked them there. It was easier for him to keep an overview over how many paintings he had ready this way. “It never sounds as impressive as it looks.”

Magnus smiled. “Thank you.”

Alec’s eyes locked with his again. One was slightly paler than the other one, not something easily noticed at first sight. A blind spot. It scared Magnus who worked with colors so much in his daily life, who enjoyed the light dancing across the surface of a lake, who bathed in the colors of the world more than its sounds, scents and touches. Seeing that color being taken away so easily …

“You don’t want to tell me how the paintings in there aren’t even your best and how you can still see many flaws in them?” Alec’s smirk and the curious look in his irregular eyes pulled the cloak of cold fear from Magnus’ heart. He felt a smirk growing on his own lips as he leaned closer to the other man.

“I’m proud of my work and I happen to especially like those which I have stacked there at the moment.” He stole a kiss. He could drown in the sensation of those lips against his. He closed his eyes, so he only felt them lazily moving, himself following an unknown rhythm. It was so odd for him to indulge in another sense than his eyes. He sighed when Alec’s lips were gone, but kept his eyes closed as he listened. So odd. What was happening to him?

“What’s on the photograph next to the unfinished painting? Some sort of sacral building? The inside, right?” Magnus opened his eyes again when Alec got up from the bed again. He was wearing pants again already, but was still without a shirt. Memories of letting his fingertips dance over that pale skin, finding the scars on Alec’s back, having his questions drowned in kisses and caresses. 

“Yeah, it’s a part of the interior of the basilica of Santa Maria de Montserrat.” 

Alec nodded and walked back into the other room again. Magnus wondered how long the other had been up already, but decided to simply be glad that Alec had stayed instead of leaving a simple note on the fridge. Not that Magnus had magnets on his fridge anyway. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on hastily as he hurried after Alec who now stood in front of the easel standing in the middle of the room. On the canvas was a wild mixture of light-brown, red, orange, golden strokes which Magnus planned on defining until the resemblance with the detail on the photograph leaning against the still white part of the canvas could be seen.

“I always take photographs first and then interpret them on the canvas with taking my emotions while making the pictures into consideration”, Magnus explained without knowing if Alec even cared. But the young man nodded absent-mindedly as his gaze wandered across the canvas. 

“I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful”, he said eventually, not a whisper, but still with that calm, careful voice that didn’t quite break the silence of the room. 

“You could give me your number. Then I can call you when it’s finished … maybe send a picture?” Magnus usually didn’t do this. One-Night-Stands were supposed to be just that, only there for one night. He didn’t like to give out his number because it meant setting roots for something he didn’t want to see growing. But this time …

Alec turned around and smiled. It was a different smile than every other one Magnus had seen so far. 

“That would be great.” A whisper again and Magnus had to withstand the urge to close his eyes and simply listen. No, he wanted to imprint this moment into his memory with all of his senses. The way Alec’s left eye stayed silent while the other brimmed with excitement. The way Alec’s voice was like featherlight touches against the shells of his ears. It filled Magnus with that feeling of contentment again. 

He smiled. Truly, wholeheartedly. Under his skin the urge to try painting a portrait again began to prickle. 

I want to see you again, the silence whispered. 

“Would you invite me to an exhibition?”

“Sure.”

-+-

I want to paint a picture of your smile, of the sound of a fleeting acquaintance that left me breathless. I want to drench the canvas in gold and red and light blue. I want to find a form for that feeling of my heart drowning in light. 

I want to tell you the secret behind my pictures as you tell me secrets of your own. 

Let me paint your smile with the same calm beauty as the setting sun of Montserrat.


	11. Cherry Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Badboy!Magnus gets into trouble with police officer Robert Lightwood and has to take a ride home with him and his endearing son.

In the cherry blossom’s shade  
there’s no such thing   
as a stranger.  
(Kobayashi Issa)

-+-

Alec looked down at his right hand. The sleeve of his sweater had ridden up and now the little tattoo on the inside of his wrist was visible. A cherry blossom in full bloom and three single petals that were blown up his forearm by an invisible breeze. Black lines, no color. 

His sister Isabelle had the same one, on the same wrist.

During their last summer together they’s visited the cherry blossom festival in Washington together. Right before Isabelle had moved with their mother and Max, the youngest Lightwood, to Europe. It had been the summer of their parents’ divorce. 

Alec had stayed with their father, Robert. Maybe for academic reasons. Maybe because he didn’t want to leave him alone. They had had a rocky time after Alec’s coming out and the following two months had been awkward as hell, but then Robert had sat down with his son and they had talked about a lot of things. Three years had passed since then; one divorce, a few slammed doors, a lot of phone calls, a lot of laughter, a few tears. In the end Alec had decided that he and his father were getting along quite well.

They cooked together. They had a schedule for who was on kitchen duty, who had to do the laundry that week. They watched TV together, fell asleep on the couch next to each other and they missed the other half of their family together. It helped a little. The divorce had been the right decision, but the fact that Maryse wanted to move to another continent had come as a surprise for all of them.

“I’m afraid that you will forget about me”, Alec had confessed to Isabelle while picking little pink petals out of her hair during that last Festival. 

“I won’t”, she had declared with all the determination of a fifteen-year-old. Alec had smiled and Isabelle had told him her favorite poem:

In the cherry blossom’s shade  
there’s no such thing  
as a stranger. 

“Let’s get matching tattoos of a cherry blossom then”, Isabelle had said, “this way we will never leave the cherry blossom’s shade … and never will be strangers to each other." 

Alec sighed and smiled absent-mindedly as he held up his wrist to look at the delicate design in the light of the warm afternoon. Summer was beginning once again. He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater. The other wrist was adorned by a watch that could use a new wristband. His father was late for picking Alec up after school, but Alec was used to it as Robert worked as a police officer and sometimes work simply didn’t allow to finish a shift on time. 

Five minutes later a police car turned around the corner and Alec pushed himself off the brick wall he’d been leaning against. The car stopped right in front of him and Robert got out. Alec could see someone on the backseat; young, male, a school uniform? He waited for his father to get to him.

"He got caught on the construction site behind his school that is prohibited to students. I’m taking him home to talk to his mother about the matter.” Alec nodded as he studied the profile of the other student. The other looked at the backside of the front seat seemingly intent on hating the world judging by the hard lines of his face. “But he doesn’t seem to be aggressive or something like that, so no worries. It’s just a small detour we have to take before heading home”, Robert finished his report. Alec nodded again. 

“Okay.” Robert took his school bag and jacket to put it into the trunk of the car. Alec opened the door on the passenger’s side and got in. Seeing as his dad was still occupied with pouting his things away he turned around to say ‘hello’, but when he turned around the smile froze in his face.

The other student had to be around his own age and the clothes he wore were indeed a school uniform, even one of the most prestigious schools Alec knew if he recalled their emblem right. His hair was a black mess, through which a few rings on the shell of his ears could be seen and Alec was sure that things like that weren’t allowed at that kind of school. His skin was dark, the form of his eyes spoke of an asian heritage and then there was the scar. 

It began right at the height of the left eyebrow, drew a harsh pale line down over he bridge of his nose narrowly missing his right eye and ending in the middle of his cheek. Maybe there had been a dimple once, but now there definitely wasn’t one anymore. 

“H-hey”, Alec choked out and felt a shudder running down his spine as dark green eyes snapped up to to stare at him with an angry intensity that made Alec want to take the bus home. But then he swallowed and tried his best to warm up the smile on his face. It worked a little bit. The other’s stare became wary, maybe a bit curious, then his gaze swept down at Alec’s still exposed wrist and faster than he could react in any way, a dark-skinned hand grabbed his own to pull it forward. Alec bumped uncomfortably into the backrest. He tried to wriggle his wrist out of the other student’s grip, but with no luck.

“A cherry blossom?”

Anger bubbled up at the calm amusement in the other’s voice. There was judgment where it didn’t belong. It was Alec’s skin and therefore none of this guy’s business. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind concerning personal space when his father got to the driver’s site of the car seeing what was going on inside. He yanked the door open and yelled: 

“Hands off, Magnus!” Robert pulled Alec back and Magnus let go of his wrist, though Alec guessed that it was mostly due to the surprise that his wrist came free. “Ever heard something about the violation of personal space?” Alec thought about the scar and didn’t know why, but it seemed oddly important. 

Magnus only glared at his father which made his scar stand out even more while Alec pressed his right hand against his chest. The skin on his wrist was still tingling from the other’s touch, but it didn’t bum the way simple bruises did. There were no more words exchanged. With a quick look at his son Robert made sure that Alec was alright and after receiving a quick nod he quickly handcuffed Magnus to the door handle for the rest of the ride. 

Alec didn’t turn around for the entire ride to Magnus’ place, but he could feel the intense gaze burning holes into the back his head despite the back rest of the seat. Then they stopped in front of quite a mansion, but then again with the school Magnus went to, it shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise. Judging by the reason Alec had met him today, it also wasn’t likely that he was there on a scholarship.

Robert got out and walked over to open the door to the backseat. He would take the cuffs off and lead him up to the door of that big, fancy house and with that out if Alec’s life. Alec definitely wouldn’t miss him.

But as his father walked around the car, he heard the rattling of the cuffs from the backseat and then there was that smooth voice again.

“Hey.” Alec crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wouldn’t answer. Definitely not.

“I know, that you can hear me.” So what?, Alec thought. You were rude, I don’t want to talk to you.

A sigh. Warm breath that tickled his neck. Goose bumps.

“I’m sorry, okay? It was a shitty day for me …” Alec glared through the windshield with stubborn determination. Another sigh. Goose bumps clawing their across his arms. Damn, why was his neck so sensitive? “Okay, you won’t talk to me, but I wanted to tell you that I think your tattoo is actually very pretty, looks great on your skin.”

Alec’s resolve crumbled like a house of cards. He bit his lower lip. Soon Magnus would be gone. Soon.

“It’s important to me”, he whispered and he was very aware of the fact that he sounded like an offended child, but he didn’t care. A chuckle sounded from the backseat at the same time the door was opened. 

The jingling of keys. The rattling of the metal handcuffs. Another sigh, this time from his father.

“Well then, get out, so we can deliver the joyful message to your mother.”

Driven by a sudden need to see Magnus one last time turned around as the other student got out of the car. Magnus noticed him looking and smiled. It wasn’t a smirk. It wasn’t a grin. It was a smile and Alec found that he couldn’t look away. 

“Maybe one day, you’ll tell me the story of that cherry blossom?”, Magnus asked. He didn’t stay to wait for an answer, but walked obediently up to the door of the mansion next to Alec’s father who pressed the door bell. Somebody opened the door, but Alec couldn’t see them behind the tall figures of Robert and Magnus. So he sank back into the seat and looked down at the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. HIs skin still tingled a bit. 

In the cherry blossom’s shade   
there’ no such thing   
as a stranger.

But they were so many petals being that were carried by the wind into the depths of the sky every year. 

How high was the chance of two petals meeting more than once in that natural chaos?


	12. Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A darker/twisted snow white-rewrite with snow white!Alec and warlock!Magnus who brewed the poison for the apple - they meet again in the 21st century.

“Humans are arrogant creatures. It will become their downfall and I will fest on their fallen souls”, a goddess once said. 

-+-

The pendant on his necklace was shaped like an apple. It was small, made out of metal, smooth and shiny. Alec liked to think of the necklace as a noose with the apple being the weight that prevented the noose from closing around his neck, a constant reminder of the death he had once died and would die again.

In his former life there had been an apple as well, a real one though, a poisoned one. Alec could still taste its bitterness on the tip of his tongue. In his former life there had been a glass coffin and a funeral. 

No prince. No kiss. How others got the idea for that story, Alec didn’t know. What was a kiss worth when one was up against poison?

Until now he hadn’t found something sweet enough to override the poison’s aftertaste.

-+-

Magnus looked up from his work when he noticed the young man approaching. The rustling of the wind playing with the simple white plastic bag carried through the open door of the greenhouse. Magnus couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the man made it hard to give him the same welcoming smile all possible customers usually got.

“Hello, how may I help you?”, Magnus asked as soon as the young man was close enough to hear him. The other’s hair was wild and black, his eyes so oddly beautiful despite their different colors; one was blue one was brown. The stranger smiled and it was like tracing a thin line in freshly fallen snow, red lips in such a stark contrast with the almost ghostlike pale skin. 

“I was looking for you.” A voice calm and dark. It had a lot in common with sleepless nights and forests filled with burned down trees. 

“Do I know you?” Magnus had lived his fair share of centuries and had met so many years over the time. Yet he was sure that he would remember a meeting with someone like this handsome stranger. His beauty was cold though and Magnus couldn’t help but notice a certain nervousness about him, in the way he blinked so often, like he had something in his eyes and tried to get rid of it. But whenever he opened them again, their gaze was clear as the sunlight piercing the clouds. 

“No …” The stranger’s voices faded into a whisper, a silent laughter was somewhere hidden in the sound of the following words. The different colored eyes swept over the flowers displayed inside the greenhouse, then for only a heartbeat they looked up at the glass roof. The sky was bright blue, the sunlight was dancing across the planes of glass. And for another heartbeat there was the hint of fear, an old one whose roots were so deep that even the most controlled heart couldn’t help but speed up when confronted with it. 

“My name’s Alec.” The eyes settled on Magnus again. He could see something behind the young man - Alec - like a shadow being there and being gone, pierced by the sunlight. “You’re Magnus, right?”

“Y-yes”, Magnus nodded absent-mindedly, his eyes were busy figuring out who exactly he was talking to. A fine sheen of fear settled on the skin covering his spine. Something was off, he knew it, but it was like trying to catch smoke. Always there, never caught.

Alec stepped closer and Magnus wanted to step back, but he knew that he had to get closer to figure out the shape the smoke he tried to catch was taking again and again before disappearing again and again.

“Come on”, Alec whispered, his eyes holding a silent, but fierce challenge almost greedy for Magnus to understand what was going on. “Look at me.”

First Magnus thought he meant his eyes, but there was nothing to be found besides an even greater disarray than the one raging in Magnus heart right now. His heart. A heart. He took in Alec’s appearance more closely. His face. 

Hair as black as ebony. Skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood. But nobody had ever mentioned something about the agony in those eyes. The agony of death, of drowning. 

“Didn’t you die as a queen?” Only now did Magnus notice how fast his blood was pounding in his veins. Alec smiled in the lazy way that people smiled when they had become to tired for hysterical laughter. 

“I died”, he muttered, his gaze like molten gold on Magnus’ skin. The other’s lips where so close to his own now. “I fulfilled that wish of my stepmother … but she didn’t kill me on her own. She didn’t have the skill to brew a poison strong enough to freeze the beating of my heart.”

The rustling of the plastic bag cut painful, deep and bleeding lines into the silence of the greenhouse. A house made of glass, a bigger coffin, but this time with a door. Alec’s free hand reached for Magnus’ cheek. Cold fingertips caressed dark skin. That thin smile was back, but this time it was scratched into solid ice. 

“Three times.” Alec’s whisper grew hoarse. Tears were brewing in the depth of those dissimilar eyes. “Three times she had to try. Three times until I was finally dead, torn apart on the inside by the hate she fed me with that last apple.”

Magnus swallowed heavily. Three times the same poison. He remembered that. He remembered teasing Camille about loosing the flasks again and again until she didn’t come back after he had given her third one and declared that it would be the last one he’d brew. She hadn’t lost the flasks, hadn’t misplaced them. Nothing like that. 

“But -”, he managed to choke out, clawing at whatever detail would help him to purge himself of his guilt. 

“I expected to die, yes …” The hand on his right cheek disappeared and despite the touch being cold Magnus found himself missing the contact already. “I’ve died so many times already, but not like this.” Alec’s voice was raw with tired anger and exhausted with constant pain. But then the anger overruled. “You killed me without letting me die.”

Again something flickered behind him … no, around him, like a screen with a similar, but still different picture settling in front of him. A girl. Snow-White had been a girl. Magnus gasped when he finally understood.

“You’ve got a split soul.”

There had been rumors about it, but Magnus had never believed in them. To him they had always seemed so unlikely. Two souls bound by the curse of a god or goddess, male and female, bound to be reborn again and again. Pure beauty to drive at least one person around them crazy with jealousy, so their soul would fall prey to the goddess. There were so many stories of beauty leading to destruction, to death, to misery. But the poison had ripped into that pattern. Camille had been supposed to loose her mind, her soul, instead she had won and Snow-White had died. Beauty had fallen to jealousy and greed. 

“What happened to your prince?”

“He found the comb that the dwarves threw away … but there was nobody to help him, like there was nobody to kiss me.” The word fled with such spite from Alec’s tongue that Magnus could feel it like a fresh scar on his own skin. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Would it have worked anyway? Could a kiss have saved me?”

They were still so close that Magnus only had to lean forward a bit to taste the poison still singing on Alec’s lips, his tongue. “I don’t know.”

For a few lost moments they looked at each other. Magnus was torn apart between those eyes of which each belonged to a different person, another heart, another soul, bound by the word of a goddess, but never forced into one body like that. It had to be painful to have two hearts beating in your chest without enough space for both of them. A constant fight against yourself. Snow-White hadn’t been allowed to end her story with the destruction of the evil queen’s soul, so Alec wasn’t allowed to begin his own yet. 

“So? Have you come to kill me, Alec?” The silence around them fell apart with the sound of his name on Magnus’ tongue. Red lips stretched into a smile that rivaled the sun above their heads. 

“No”, he said, chuckling and stepped back again. Magnus already missed him. “I just had to find you first this time.” Alec held up the simple white plastic bag. He reached inside and pulled out an apple. His smile though turned sharp with jagged edges. 

“The queen is back and I need your help to poison her.”

Magnus looked at Alec. The apple held up between them was like a barrier, cold and high and in a way made out of concrete. He felt the word ‘responsibility’ tugging at the back of his mind, but didn’t quite know yet what to make of it. He was the warlock that had caused those two souls to be forced into a cage by living in the same body because the one couldn’t sleep yet and the other had been awoken already. From the corner of his eye Magnus saw something in the wall of the greenhouse to his left. There was the mirror image of Alec, but it wasn’t Alec there painted on the surface of the glass. It was a girl with the same pale complexion, a dark eye showing in her profile, her hair long and black like ink spilled over her back. Snow-White.

“What’s the name of Snow-White … of that other heart of yours?”, Magnus asked his eyes still trained on the reflection. Alec turned to look at it as well and as he did so the girl who was visible with strong lines as if there was actually a mirror instead of simple glass. She held an apple in her hand and smiled just as Alec quietly said:

“Isabelle … her name’s Isabelle.”

-+-

And the goddess laughed at all those immortal beings on earth that thought they were immune to her creation.


	13. Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musician!Alec who is in a band with Jace and Izzy meets Magnus, a new friend of Izzy’s, after a concert.

Alec knew he should have run the moment his sister had spoken the words ‘But maybe we should do something different this time’ with that look on her face … that look she always got when Alec was about to get in trouble. But no, he had stayed at the kitchen table because he had only been halfway through his cup of coffee and his senses hadn’t quite recovered from the concert the night before. Isabelle and Jace had probably exchanged a look because Jace had chimed in with that completely fake curiosity in his voice. 'Oh yes, Isabelle, that sounds interesting, what do you suggest?’

Alec huffed. Yeah, what kind of suggestion had his dear sister had for their next concert? Not maybe something harmless like getting a crew of dancers for one of their songs or having them all dress up in colorful suits, no! They had wanted Alec to sing!!

He had spit out part of his coffee and stared into their grinning faces with honest disbelieve. It hadn’t been a joke and every argument Alec had brought forth they had squashed like a bug under one of Isabelle’s high heeled boots. And in the end Alec had agreed. He had agreed!!! Because they made him believe that it would only be the first few lines anyway, but of course he didn’t get off so easily because during the performance Jace had refused to take over and Alec had ended up singing most of the song. He had been close to throwing his guitar at his best friend simply to get that smug grin off his face when the fans erupted into screaming after the song had ended. Well, at least they hadn’t thrown stuff at Alec for singing the song that was usually Jace’s performance, voice-wise at least because they weren’t yet big enough for an impressive stage performance. 

After the concert had ended Alec had retreated to his comfort room which was basically just an empty room with a piano standing in the middle. It was close to the ballroom they had performed in that evening. His guitar was leaning against a wall and Alec liked to think that it was just as exhausted from the concert like he was. He snorted and tried to blew a few strands of black out of his forehead which was of course unsuccessful. What else? He contemplated getting a haircut. Sure enough Izzy would be thrilled about it. But then his gaze wandered to the black and white keys of the piano in front of him. 

Then again, their audience didn’t seem so disappointed with that one song. Maybe it hadn’t been that bad? Alec pursed his lips and thoughtfully tapped on key letting the single tone travel through the room. He hadn’t checked his twitter yet or the band’s twitter for that matter, too scared to read critical messages about how Jace should have performed that song, how Alec should stay in the background playing the guitar. 

Alec sighed heavily and put his other hand on the piano keys as well. Cautiously his fingertips wandered across black and white. Cautiously a simple melody began wafting through the air. It had kind of been fun though. Alec bit his lower lip and watched his fingers wandering across the keys. He new the rhythm, he knew the melody, he knew the lyrics because he loved it … and maybe somehow it had been fun to sing it, to have a voice for once. Alec smiled and the pressure of his fingertips became stronger, the tones hunting each other, but at the same time spreading their wings filling the stale air in the room.

“I thought of angels, choking on their halos … get them drunk on rose water … see how dirty I can-”

The sound of something hitting the ground started Alec so that he missed on key and all of a sudden the atmosphere was broken, the notes escaped out of the window that wasn’t even open at the moment. 

“Uh, I’m so sorry, but …" 

Alec glared at the keys of the piano for a second, then at his hands, eventually he turned around to glare at whoever had disturbed with annoyance. Unfortunately his annoyance quickly morphed into a great example for very obvious staring. 

In the doorframe of the room stood a guy, roughly around Alec’s age … and quite attractive. The stranger kept up the polite smile you shoot another stranger at the first encounter while Alec did what he always did, staring, drowning in silence and probably doing his best 'deer caught in the headlights’-impression. Next to playing the guitar and the piano it was one of his great talents. In the attempt to for once not be the creepy staring stranger Alec frantically searched for a topic of harmless smalltalk. His eyes found the bag at the man’s feet, his brain remembered the sound that had started him so much earlier and his tongue came up with the sentence:

"You dropped something.”

The stranger’s smile widened, but instead of picking up said bag and leaving, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the doorframe. “Indeed I did, sharp eyes you got there.” Then he winked, he freaking WINKED! The last time someone had winked at Alec … well, that person had been female and about 50 years older. She had also tried to pinch him, if Alec recalled correctly. But now things were different. The person that winked was a damn attractive guy with dark skin, black hair, really nice eyes and - maybe that’s how it happened? 

Maybe he had heard Alec sing and had liked it and had liked Alec and had come looking for him and wanted to ask him out and-

“Maybe you can help me find Isabelle with those sharp eyes as well?”

-and that was the sound of a freshly hatched ego dying. 

Of course. Nobody would stay behind to look for him especially when that meant risking to get caught by the staff. Also now that he had mentioned it, Alec recalled Isabelle mentioning a friend - Magnus something - coming by to watch their performance tonight, but he had actually zoned out at that point because he still had had to deal with the fact that for some horrific reason he’d agreed to sing that damn song. 

Alec bit his lower lip and turned back to the piano putting his hands on top of the cool keys yet again. Maybe he should play a sad ballad next and than get some ice cream. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to show this stranger the way to Izzy’s room while wallowing in self-pity. He could be a real ass when he was grumpy. And sure as hell he was grumpy right now, grumpy, disappointed, a bit sad and not in the mood for company. Life sucked. 

“Her room’s on the second floor, down the hall, third door on the right”, he muttered expecting to hear a quiet 'thanks’ and the sound of that stupid bag being picked up again. 

“Oh, okay, thank you.” Alec felt good for the slight disappointment he could hear in the other’s voice and at the same time he growled at himself for doing so. “Oh, and just wanted to let you know, I really liked that one performance-”

“I was forced to do it and I’m not going to do it again!”, Alec exclaimed bringing all ten fingers forcefully down on the keys. A myriad of tones erupted from the instrument skimming across Alec’s skin like a gust of strong, cool wind. Then it was gone and Alec felt too warm again. He wanted to take off his sweater, he wanted to take off Magnus’ sweater, he wanted to kiss- oh, come on! Get a grip, Lightwood, Alec chastised himself. 

“I liked it.” It was soft, no teasing, no innuendo. Alec wasn’t looking at him, but he was still sure that Magnus didn’t have the slightest trace of that wink on his face. He really means it, the little voice inside his head whispered. Alec inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. The emotional stress he’d already been through because of this one song was ridiculous already. “And you seemed to be having fun as well." 

The other’s voice was so close now and if Alec concentrated hard enough he could feel the other’s breath against his neck. Faster and faster heartbeats were rushing through Alec’s veins, the sound of his own breathing suddenly way to loud. He could feel the smile on the other’s lips because he could hear it in Magnus’ voice, but for some crazy moment he craved to feel it pressed against the skin of his neck. God, what was going on here?

"I did”, he breathed out though he wasn’t sure if Magnus had caught the words or if he even wanted him to do so. But it was true, now that he thought about it. “I like that song.” His lips kept moving, his fingers stayed frozen, his hands became clammy, but his body grew slowly accustomed to the fast heartbeat. His face had to be beet red by now, but Alec didn’t care. His pulse was like electricity, cursing through his body, waking him up. He felt like that when he’d been singing. 

“Then you should sing more often.”

Alec closed his eyes, letting his other senses take over and in some way it was easier to talk without the strong contrast of white and black keys glaring back at him. “Maybe for the next album”, he heard himself say, “I don’t like having the audience focusing on me.”

A soft chuckle sounded through the darkness of Alec’s closed eyelids. It filled it with warmth and Alec found himself thinking that maybe it was okay to open his eyes again, to actually look at the world. Maybe it wasn’t so scary after all. 

“Then start small. You can try playing only for a small number of people, maybe just one … maybe just me?”

Alec’s eyes snapped open again and he whirled around, his heart jumping in his chest. They were so close. So close. Their gazes locked. A silent melody playing somewhere, no instrument needed. 

“You want to hear me sing again?”

A smile between the lines bound them together for those few moments. “I would do a lot of things to hear that voice again”, Magnus whispered. His gaze was gentle, his words like kisses skimming warm skin, barely there, carefully placed. 

Alec wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat and just like that he was back to being the deer caught in the headlights. Magnus turned back into the winking stranger and backed up a bit. 

“Well, I guess I have a new favorite band”, he smirked, “I’m looking forward to the next time I catch you with an instrument.” He winked again. He turned around, picked up his bag and left Alec close to an internal combustion which he didn’t know how to deal with. His emotions were so jumbled and his world was on the brink of being turned upside down, so he did what he always did:

Groaning and letting his head sink on top of the keys that filled his ears for that short moment with a symphony of confusion.


	14. Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orphanage AU where Magnus practically lives there and Alec is the new kid
> 
> (I continued this as a multi-chapter fic with the title BlindSpot, which I will post when I get to it)

When Magnus heard the first crash, he thought it was the sound of thunder and that the storm they had predicted for this morning already was finally there to cool down the sticky weather of the past weeks. But then he realized that someone was yelling as well and that the following crashes each filled the pauses between those outbursts. 

“Guess there’s a new kid in the house”, Magnus muttered to himself. 

It wasn’t unusual for children, no matter the age, to have problems acclimating when they first got to the orphanage. For Magnus it had been the most difficult thing to accept it as his new home more than a temporary place to stay. He had gotten there at the age of nine. The people who had brought him had spent the whole trip telling him about how others would come to take him home because somewhere out there was a family that was just waiting for him, that would treat him better than his stepfather had after his mother had died. First Magnus had believed and hoped, but as time had gone by, he’d realized that nobody would come for him. But then he thought, as he got to know the other children and the advisors, maybe there wasn’t the need for anybody coming to get him, maybe this was already the new family … they definitely cared more for him than his stepdad had ever done. It wasn’t very hard considering that the guy had tried to drown him, but Magnus still appreciated the place he had at the orphanage.

“Magnus?”, a soft voice sounded from the right. Magnus turned his head to see a young girl with brown hair and those big, intelligent eyes. She had a book clutched to her chest and looked at him apologetically, but Magnus only smiled.

“Hey, Tessa, what’s up?”

The girl cleared her throat and straightened her back. “I am here to deliver a message from our beloved fairy of the infirmary-” Something on the second floor hit the wall again, followed by more yelling that seemed to turn more and more into a simple string of every swear word ever. “- that you shall rise and get ‘whatever idiot is failing at civilized communication to shut the fuck up’.”

Magnus grinned and Tessa copied the expression. “Okay, my friend, tell Cat that I will take care of it”, he eventually said. Tessa saluted and turned around to get back to wherever Catarina was working this afternoon. Saying that the orphanage had an infirmary was saying a bit much, but with Catarina they at least had the most dedicated nurse they could have hoped for and wherever somebody got hurt there was the infirmary. It was actually just Catarina and a suitcase with the most needed stuff, but the children had the highest respect for her. 

Magnus swung his legs over the edge of his bed, threw on one of the oversized shirts he usually slept in and made his way to the second floor trusting that the sound of the ruckus would lead him to said 'idiot’. 

On the second floor were the single rooms for those who needed personal space more than others and also where the more difficult children were placed so they wouldn’t cause an uproar among the others. When Magnus reached the top of the stairs he was greeted by the sound of a door being slammed hard enough that he could hear the wood of the doorframe splintering. He turned right and found two of the advisors standing in front of a door with several objects strewn across the floor. They were all parts of the basic equipment for every one of the single rooms. Metal pots, some shards that probably had been two vases once, a chair which was now missing a leg.

And from inside that one room came another string of curses. “Get lost! Leave me the fuck alone! I’ll sue you for keeping me here! I’ll screw you all over so bad that you beg me to go! I don’t fucking need you! You think you’re so good, but you are just as bad as the fucking rest!”

Magnus raised his eyebrows as he got closer. One of the advisors noticed him and his expression brightened visibly. 

“Hey, Magnus”, he said. “Did you come to try talking to him?”

Magnus gave the middle-aged man a little wave with his right hand. “Hey, Mr. Starkweather. Yeah, Cat asked me to 'work my magic’.” At that he wiggled his fingers like those wizards did in children’s cartoons. Hodge Starkweather nodded, a thankful smile on his lips. The other advisor was a younger woman with flaming red hair that was caught in a messy bun at the back of her head. Magnus looked at her. “What’s the deal with him, Mrs. Fray?”

Jocelyn sighed and shrugged. “We don’t really know, he-” She motioned to the door that got hit with something heavy followed by a new string of curses. “- ran away from every foster family and kicked out of one of the orphanages in the city … I guess they thought the country air here might help.”

“He got kicked out?”, Magnus exclaimed as he’d never heard of a case that bad that not even the orphanage could handle somebody anymore.

“FUCKING YES! AND I’LL PUT ON MY FUCKING RESUMÉ AS FUCKING SPECIAL SKILL!”, sounded suddenly the voice from behind the door, ripping through the silence like thunder breaking the sky. Afterwards it was silent again and Magnus could almost feel the raging heartbeat on the other side of the door. He could picture the other guy standing behind the door with his hands pressed against he doorframe, panting hard from all the throwing stuff and cursing.

Magnus huffed. “Nothing you should be too proud of, kid”, he sneered ta the door. He couldn’t stand people who thought of negative character traits as something they could show off with, the whole bad boy charm had never been something to work on Magnus in general. 

From the other side of the door though came a humorless chuckle. “Didn’t say I’m proud of it … it’s simply the only thing I will ever be exceptionally good at.”

“Oh, look”, Magnus muttered darkly, “it can form curse-free sentences.”

“BITE ME!”

“Aaaaaand we’re back.” Magnus sighed, but nodded at the two advisors. After that Hodge hurried off to look after the other children while Jocelyn only stepped aside a bit so she wouldn’t be directly visible from the door anymore. Magnus took a deep breath am knocked to show good faith and good manners because if somebody spits in your face doesn’t mean that you have to greet them the same way. 

“Fuck off!”, came the expected yell, but Magnus only pursed his lips.

It wasn’t his first encounter with a difficult youth. As the person who had been at this orphanage the longest time out of all the children, he had become a kind of counselor when the advisors couldn’t get through to a new kid. Sometimes it was just easier to talk to someone your own age than an adult, no matter how kindhearted said adult was. 

Magnus himself had had Catarina in the beginning and no matter how rough she might seem on the outside, she still knew how and when to be kind. 

“I’m going to pick the lock if you don’t open up”, Magnus stated glaring at the closed door. “There’s no way I’m going to leave you to soak in your hatred against the world. It’s bad for your digestive system.”

“God, you’re annoying and I’ve only known you for about five minutes. Must be a new record”, came the growled answer through the solid wood. Magnus grinned and stepped closer to the door when he heard the key being turned. 

“Well, it’s one of my special skills and I already have it listed on my-”

The door swung open and Magnus’ train of thought completely derailed, crashed and burned. In the doorframe there stood one hell of an attractive guy. Black hair, piercing blue eyes that tried to kill him from afar. Maybe his skin was a bit too pale to be healthy and his hair was in need of a haircut … or just a brush. His clothes were ripped and torn and way too big. His feet were bare and there was dirt under his toe nails, it had obviously been a while since he’d last worn shoes or even socks. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest and carried himself with that kind of stubborn arrogance that was both endearing and seriously annoying. 

When Magnus eyes reached the other’s blue ones again he was confronted with a dismissive eye roll.

“Stop drooling”, he hissed and Magnus felt his resolve to not hit the guy slowly crumbling. But on the other hand there was that big tear at the collar of the black shirt that caused said collar to slip from the right shoulder and Magnus found that he could spend a whole day just watching this guy trying to pull the shirt back up after it slipped down again.

“I’m not drooling”, Magnus growled, “and just for your interest, your good looks count nothing with that awful personality of yours.”

The black-haired youth snorted. “Well, you being pretty doesn’t help to forget the fact that you are terribly annoying either.”

Magnus’ eyebrows shot up and he wondered if this statement had been intended or if it had been a slip up. “Awww, sweetheart, so you think I’m nice to look at, too?”, he teased because he figured that he wouldn’t get anywhere talking nice with this guy. Blue eyes went wide, only to be narrowed into glaring slits right afterwards again. Yeah, totally a slip up, but hey, the new kid had a hidden cute side.

“I hate you.”

Magnus grinned because the anger in the other’s voice was less forceful now than it had been before. “Yeah, I’m not your biggest fan either, Mr … What’s your name again?”

“I don’t have to tell you any-”

“Lightwood”, Jocelyn whispered from her place next to the door, “it’s Alexander Lightwood.”

Magnus grin grew even wider while Alexander aggressively pouted. “I hate both of you”, he hissed and Magnus nodded. 

“Don’t worry, you made that very clear.” Outside the house the rumbling of real thunder could be heard and the first raindrops began hitting the windows. “But for now we are your only option, so act your age instead of throwing things against walls and curses at everything that moves. Also with a behavior like that and your record, the chance of somebody adopting you-”

Alexander’s whole demeanor changed within a heartbeat when the word 'adopting’ passed Magnus’ lips just like the first shot of lightning set the dark grey clouds aflame outside at right this moment. 

“I don’t want to get fucking adopted!”, he screamed uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists at his sides, the slipping shirt collar completely forgotten. “I had this shit often enough already and it’s always fucking the same. First they are like 'Yay, we have a child, we’ll give him the chance of a better life’, but the moment you come out to them they are like 'What do you mean, you are gay? You don’t look gay’ as if they ordered a fucking fridge and are now upset because the food displayed in the brochure isn’t included! So pardon me if I don’t give a fuck anymore, okay? I can survive on my own, did it long enough before they found me again and stuck me into that shitty place where the staff couldn’t their fucking hands to themselves and then complain when I break a nose or two.”

Another roaring thunder passed over the roof of the house and the rain grew stronger with every second. Alexander’s chest was heaving with taking deep breaths and for some reason the sound of his anger and frustration overpowered even the thunder in some way.

“Okay”, Magnus held up his hands defensively. Alexander’s eyes followed his every move, fury still burning bright within them. “How about we make a deal then? I’m not going to mention the A-word again and you’ll stop trowing stuff at walls and no more yelling at people who don’t deserve it.”

Alexander thoughtfully chewed on his bottom lip while Magnus tried to concentrate on anything but those lips. Eventually Alexander nodded slowly and Magnus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He held out his hand hoping that the other wouldn’t change his mind again after all. 

“Well then, my name’s Magnus.”

Alexander eyed him skeptically before he cautiously stepped closer and tuck Magnus’ hand. His were warm and a bit clammy, probably from clenching them into fists so often.

“I’m Alec.”

“Alec?”

“Yes, I prefer the short version of the name over the actual name.”

“Awww, but Alexander is much more-”

“I throw stuff at people who call me by my full name on purpose.”

Magnus nodded with pursed lips. 

And it was like hearing the thunder and waiting for the lightning to strike you down while you can already feel the heavy rain hitting your skin mixed with cold, piercing wind. You long to hear the sound of the thunder again and again because it sounds like the sky is breaking in thousand little pieces, it’s the sound of something new coming your way.

“Well, then let’s get you a bath, so you look presentable for dinner”, Magnus announced cheerfully and pulled Alec close to him, hooking an arm around his waist and dragged him out of the room. Alec’s shock lasted for about three steps before he gained back the control over his body and voice.

“The fuck? Are you kidding me? Hey! Let me fucking go-” A high squeal carried through the hallway when they took the first staircase. “I swear, if you touch my hair, I’ll hurt you!”

The growling thunder filled the sky above their heads almost as if it was laughing about the things that were about to come.


	15. Ephemeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine year old Alec watches the stars and finds out what really happens to shooting stars when they hit the earth.

Alec loved being outside and just staring up at the sky; at lazily traveling clouds, at millions of blinking, shining stars, at a canvas of pure blue and even at the dark grey, towering clouds that growled with thunder and spoke of a rising storm. 

But the best thing were still the shooting stars in April. They came every year and filled the sky with the purest white light, painted sparkling lines across the darkness of the night. Like a rainbow, maybe, a night-rainbow. It always only lasted for a few seconds and every year Alec tried not to blink as it happened. He was always a little bit sad when it was over, but at the same time he was happy that it would happen again the next year. 

‘I only have to make it through another year and I’ll see them again’, he would whisper to himself with a smile on his lips that would always be hidden by the big, blue scarf his parents had gotten him for his sixth birthday because the nights in April were still cold, but Alec never wanted to watch the shooting stars from inside. The scarf was long enough that it would be dragged over the ground when Alec didn’t pay attention. But after three years with the scarf now he’d gotten better at not getting tangled up in the blue fabric. 

“I’m going outside”, he called through the hallway, the scarf loosely wrapped around his throat about three times, his hands covered by the long sleeves of his sweater and the cup of hot chocolate securely held in his right hand. 

“Take care, honey”, called his mother from the living room where she was watching TV with his father. Isabelle had already gone to bed and usually Alec would have done so, too, but the night of the shooting stars was the only one he was allowed to stay up late. 

Cautiously sipping on his hot chocolate Alec stepped out into the little garden behind their house. They lived at the edge of town and behind their house there were pretty much just open fields. This way Alec had the best view of the shooting stars because the sky above the fields stretched so much farther than the one over the city. Of course Alec knew that there was only one sky, but he liked to think of the sky above the fields as his own little kingdom, where no skyscrapers would obscure the view or thick smoke would taint the lights of the shooting stars. 

Alec had already prepared a chair in the middle of the garden that stood on the arrow path leading the way between tomatoes and black currant. The night sky was still dark, but alive with countless stars, but they were still securely in place. The only other light was the faint glow from inside the house, but Alec sat with his back to house, so he wouldn’t get distracted. He sat down in the old lawn chair and sipped his chocolate. 

It always began the same way. A single star would start, a second would follow, then three, then twelve and then the whole sky would fall apart in the most beautiful way. With his eyes wide open Alec stared at the sky, his heart beating like a little bird trapped in his chest. A soft breeze was blowing.

Then the first star fell. The first shooting star of April. 

It shone so bright and clear against the dark night sky. Alec followed its trace with his eyes, but just as he was about to let it go and look for the following shooting stars, he realized that the star was getting brighter and brighter and bigger … and heading towards the fields that were a part of the little kingdom Alec called his childhood. 

As the ground got closer the star slowed down, now a small ball of bright light, pure white, but not hurting Alec’s eyes for some reason. And then right before the star touched the ground it stopped, just floating in the air. Alec’s heart was about to burst out of his chest. He forgot everything around him, eyes trained on the light of the star at it changed, moved … the light subsided slowly, but not completely and in the end there stood a boy with only a faint glow to him. Dark skin covered with star-shaped patterns, like the ones that Alec drew in school, but without the yellow color, these were directly on the boys exposed skin, a bit lighter than the rest. 

Then the boy raised his gaze to the sky and Alec followed him, seeing that the next stars were about to fall. Two, then three, then twelve. The sky was set aflame with their light as they rushed across the black canvas that was the night sky and Alec realized that he had never wondered were the stars went after falling. His eyes snapped back to the boy still standing in the fields just outside of the Lightwood’s garden. He was still looking up at the sky, with his profile turned towards Alec. The light of the other stars danced across the skin of his chest as he was only dressed in a simple tunic that was about to slip from his shoulder. The fabric was a soft grey, like clouds after a night of heavy rain. 

More and more stars fell, but Alec couldn’t tear his game away from the other boy. He was breathing heavy, his heartbeat refused to calm down. Was he scared? Was he curious? Was he excited? No word would pass his lips. His throat was dry and the cold air seeped through the fabric of his sweater. 

Alec didn’t blink once. 

Then the boy turned around as if he had sensed Alec being there. Maybe he had also noticed the lights of the house behind Alec from the corner of his eye. Whatever was the case, Alec was met with eyes filled with such a bright shade of green that the stars above didn’t seem that important anymore. 

There it is, Alec thought, there’s the light of the star. He swallowed heavily as green eyes widened with surprised, narrowed with curiosity and when Alec made to get up from his chair, the other only shook his head. The boy took a step back. Alec felt fear crawl up his spine. 

“NO!”, he suddenly yelled and surprised himself with the sound that cut through the silence of the night like a sharp knife. He hurried to get up. He wanted the shooting star to stay, wanted to ask his name, wanted to … but with every clumsy move he did, the boy took another step back. It was like a nightmare where you were slowed down while trying to run as fast as you can. 

Don’t go, Alec’s heart called out. Then he finally got his feet from underneath him and rose from the chair. He spilled hot chocolate over his hands, the ground, but when he took the first step away from the chair, the star was gone.

All that remained was a cool breeze blowing, a dark sky devoid of stars because new one’s hadn’t been born yet to replace the fallen ones and empty fields that stretched further into the shadows than the faint light of the Lightwood house could reach. Alec was still breathing hard as an unknown, deep sadness settled in his chest. His heart finally slowed down, but only because the weight got to heavy keep beating so fast. 

Just like that it was over.

Alec wanted to cry, but he couldn’t tell why.


	16. Gravestone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock!Alec and warlock!Magnus meet on a graveyard and let's assume that warlocks can reproduce the usual way and have long lineages. 
> 
> Warning: bloody stuff mentioned (as in demons being killed)

Let’s meet on the graveyard  
At the third gravestone from the right.

-+-

Magnus was woken by the howling of the wolves even though he was pretty sure that there were no wolves in New York and the howling sounded too close to come from outside the city. Another shiver-inducing howl tore apart the silence of the night. Swiftly Magnus got out of bed and threw on some warm clothes to find out where those howls were coming from. He threw one last smile at his cat before he left his apartment. Once he was outside he simply stood on the sidewalk and listened closely. These were the moments when he wished he’d been cursed with cat ears instead of cat eyes as his devil’s mark, but as things were he had to work with human ears. As it turned out though those were good enough to figure out the vague direction the howls were coming from. 

The night was still warm despite fall coming closer. Howl after howl traveled through the air as Magnus hurried along empty streets. There was the occasional cab passing by, maybe a distant laugh or call coloring the pauses between the howls. 

It had to be more than one wolf. Magnus turned right, then left, then right again, went straight ahead as he wrecked his brain for possibilities where the heck wolves could have come from in the city. Then he turned another corner and suddenly it hit him. The Lightwood-graveyard. 

The air turned chilly as Magnus stared at the big iron gate which was pushed alway open, just enough space to fit one person through. It was that moment that Magnus noticed that the sky was dark with only a few stars shining far above the city as if they’d gotten lost in the darkness. New Moon, not even the time for werewolves. 

“Well then, let’s see if I get myself killed tonight”, Magnus whispered. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, determined to survive whatever was waiting for him. It was true that his seven hundredth birthday was close and while it was also true that he liked to think of himself as ‘eternally 699’, but he would still like to have that party he’d planned. 

Another howl started Magnus, but it wasn’t just a howl anymore. It turned into a growl in the end and other growls join that first one. 

“Let’s get this over with, so I can get back into my bed." 

It was still weird that nobody else had yet been drawn to the graveyard with those persistent wolves, but Magnus decided to figure that out later. Cautiously he stepped closer to the gate. The path beneath his feet was paved and Magnus was sure that he had never been more aware of the sound of his own steps. 

This wasn’t the first time that he’s had to get up in the middle of the night because something was going on in the city or at least in his district. It was the responsibility that came with the position as High Warlock of Brooklyn. Downworlders trusted him to keep the conflict with the shadowhunters of the New York Institute a minimum and so far Magnus had done quite a good job. But he still was squeamish about visiting graveyards at night, especially this one. 

The Lightwoods were the only warlock-family known worldwide. A family of warlocks that procreated like mundanes and all the children were born warlocks. As if at least one woman in every generation got involved with a demon and for some reason was able to bear a child. Magnus knew that his friend Tessa Gray also was warlock who could bear children, but still … the Lightwoods were different, had always been. They had lived in the big mansion close to the graveyard, but then moved to England or at least that’s what had been told among downworlders. The house had been slowly turned to ruins that nobody in the city really wanted to touch, let alone tear it down, over the past century. The graveyard on the other hand had never been really dead. From time to time new gravestones would appear out of nowhere and again Magnus could only go by the rumors that circulated. So it was said that whenever a Lightwood died there grew a new gravestone with the family member’s name on it on that graveyard. 

Only demons of the lower ranks dared to roam among those gravestones, but even they didn’t do anything else than passing by. 

Magnus could feel the tension in the air shift when he passed the iron gate. Now he could make out a few shapes gathered around a single gravestone standing a bit away from the rest. One member of the group looked to be human, while the others seemed to be the wolves Magnus had heard before. The light of the city didn’t completely reach across the low wall of the graveyard, but as Magnus got closer he could make out the shapes more clearly. He counted three wolves, bigger than normal wolves; their backs probably reached Magnus’ waist. Their fur was blacker than black. The faint light of the city, which seemed miles away at the moment, didn’t touch them at all. They were hard shadows in a world of dim light. All three pairs of glowing eyes were trained on Magnus. 

Seven steps remaining between him and them. The air turned colder with every step he took and in an attempt to distract himself from the wolves that didn’t exactly give out a friendly vibe, Magnus focused on the fourth figure. Human-shaped … though there was something about the hair, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Six steps.

The person wore simple clothes, had broad shoulders, was tall. Not as tall as Magnus though, a shirt and pants, no robe, nothing special. 

Five steps. 

Something moved on the person’s head and it wasn’t hair moved by the wind. The movement was more specific, stronger in a way. 

Four steps.

It hit Magnus like a sledgehammer. Among those raven locks there were ears, pointy, furry ears … wolf ears. And they were trained at him, listening for his every movement. Magnus decided to keep some distance between them. 

"Hey, what are you doing here? Do these wolves belong to you?” His voice didn’t waver and Magnus was proud about it. His eyes were transfixed on the ears that always for a second flicked to one side or the other listening for the sounds of the city that never slept. The other person tilted their head to the right, then to the left, then they turned around halfway. 

Three steps remaining. 

Faint light wandered across pale skin, got lost in the messiest hair Magnus had ever seen and highlighted cold, blue eyes, gently outlined fresh blood … it was splattered across the other’s skin and the shirt seemed to be wet with it at some places. The most though could be found on the hands. Pale, slender hand with long, thin fingers bent like claws and dripping with blood. 

“Yes, they are with me.” A calm voice, a cold voice, ice everywhere. “What is your business here?" 

Magnus swallowed. He tried to look away, he really did, but he couldn’t. His eyes were following the trail of the blood that dripped to the earth towards the little gravestone the stranger stood in front of. 

"Who did you kill?”, Magnus whispered. 

“You scared?” More ice, covering every word. 

Magnus’ own eyes snapped back up again, determined to prove the opposite. “No”, he said with a firm voice. He could deal with cocky teenagers that smirked at him when they tried out a new summoning circle or mastered a new spell, he’d met enough of them. But this stranger who Magnus was pretty sure was a warlock, too, didn’t smirk at him, didn’t chuckle. There was only honest, but detached curiosity in his voice, filling his expression. He held himself in a way that spoke of calm confidence and given the circumstances it made Magnus’ skin crawl. 

“But fear is healthy”, the other warlock muttered. “It’s okay if you are.” The words were carried away by a gentle, but freezing breeze, only faintly did they touch Magnus’ skin. 

“Who did you kill?”, he repeated, this time with more force. 

He got an answer in response, a soft chuckle as well, but both were warm, honest, covered in shades of orange like the clouds at dawn. “Don’t worry”, the stranger said. He lifted a blood covered hand scratched the skin above his right eyebrow smearing more blood across pale skin. “They were just demons. Those idiots of the lowest rank …” He turned back towards the gravestone that was also smaller than the rest and stepped a bit aside at the same time. The wolves that had remained motionless all the time moved with him, keeping their eyes trained on Magnus, but by now he’d gotten used to the constant burning in his skin. 

Behind the gravestone the ground was littered with the bodies of smaller demons that already began to dissolve to ashes. 

“What did they do?” It was unusual for warlocks to go after demons, no matte the rank, so something must have happened to aggravate the other warlock enough to slaughter them like that, even with his own hands getting dirty. Warlocks were known for long distance fights, not close combat, if they got involved in fights at all. 

The gaze of blue eyes became distant as it fell on the gravestone. “Some things just shouldn’t be touched.” Again a whisper in the wind, words meant for the night, not for Magnus’ ears. Yet he heard them and it felt wrong to witness the flash of fury that even it was only for a heartbeat broke the ice so forcefully that it instantly turned into gas, completely skipping the option of melting. 

“Is that why you came?” The ice was back, almost as thick as before … almost. “Where my wolves to loud?” There was honest concern in big, round eyes and Magnus had no idea anymore what to make of this warlock. So many faces that changed so fast, his head was about to start spinning. 

“Uh, yeah”, he managed to say absent-mindedly, “I heard their howling halfway across the city and came over to see what was going on.”

He didn’t see the little, almost giddy smile coming that happened next. Blood-covered fingers were slowly tapped against thin lips, leaving dark red smears, also painting the chin. “So if something actually happened to me, you would have been there to help.”

Magnus didn’t know how, but somehow his brain and mouth managed a connection that got him to say “Well, it’s kind of my job …” and he was very grateful for that, because there was a train o thought that went down a completely different part at that last gesture. 

“Oh, really? Oh, are you Magnus Bane by any chance?”

Magnus blinked. That smile was still there, covered in blood, the voice no longer really hidden beneath the ice. Words flowed more freely, almost sliding on the blood that only dried very slowly. 

“Yeah … yes, i am. Who are you?” Why did this question come so late? Why hadn’t the name been more important before? Where was the fear that had been built up with every step since Magnus had passed the iron gate? A hand was stretched out, but he didn’t take it. Maybe because of the blood, maybe because he wasn’t sure what kind of emotional whirlpool he’d be dragged down if he did. The other warlock seemed to realize that shaking hands with your own covered in blood wasn’t really the best was to go, so he took it back. His smile turned apologetic as red fingertips painted faint lines across the side of his neck.

“I’m Alec Lightwood … your new apprentice. Or at least, it’s what I’d like to become.”

And just like that Magnus’ world was turned upside down. With no moon shining and only the chuckle of the few stars whose light didn’t reach the graveyard, with that one gravestone that was smaller than the others, stood a bit further apart and didn’t carry a name.

“Interesting.”

Something dangerous flashed in clear, blue eyes.


	17. Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy blind-date with an important notebook.

Alec groaned internally as he stared down at his coffee. A blind date? Really? God, what had possessed him to agree to that? Okay, that question was easily answered: loneliness mixed with tequila. Not something he’d recommend. He could have stayed sober that night, could have politely refused his sister’s offer and he would be at home, binge watching something on Netflix and trying to drown the boredom of his single-life with orange juice. But no, he was sitting in a small cafe in the farthest corner on the back and was on the verge of being stood up anyway. It was ten minutes past the meeting time and Alec decided to simply finish his coffee in the next five minutes, then look at his phone as he’d just gotten an important text … then leave.

His gaze wandered over to the counter. Maybe he’d get a piece of apple pie before leaving. The barista met his gaze and smiled brightly at him. Alec smiled back in his usual awkward way. Fortunately it didn’t seem to creep her out. Alec was pretty proud of himself to have managed that social interaction and it lifted his mood instantly. He smiled to himself and sipped on his coffee. 

The next moment someone crashed into his life and Alec almost spit out the sip he’d just taken. A young man, about his age came to a skittering halt on the other side of the table Alec was sitting at. He was out of breath and Alec wondered why he hadn’t noticed him right when he must have rushed through the door. The other’s eyes were a vibrant green, his skin was dark and his black hair was a mess made by the wind that was blowing outside. He was wearing several layers of bright colors that he somehow managed to keep from clashing with each other and over his shoulder was the strap of a surprisingly simple, grey shoulder bag, but then Alec noticed that it was covered with countless buttons and patches and it all made sense again. 

A few seconds passed while the newcomer simply stood there, taking deep breaths, his hands put on the table that separated them with his eyes so intently trained on Alec that he couldn’t look away. Alec’s heartbeat quickened because he wasn’t sure if anybody had ever taken such a close look at him. There was no judgement, annoyance, nothing like that. It wasn’t that kind of calm ‘I love you’-look that could be observed in so many romantic movies either. The strangers gaze was filled to the brim with life and his eyes seemed intent and excited at the prospect of meeting somebody new, somebody that didn’t look like the rest of the person they’d mat yesterday because everybody looked different. 

Like a child, Alec thought with a hammering heart in his chest. He’s like a child that witnesses the world for the first time still trying to understand what makes it go round.

-+-

If you forget most things in your life, you’ll stumble from one first meeting into the next and sometimes won’t realize when it actually is a real one, but it also is a possibility to welcome the whole world with open arms, like an old friend who you’ve known for ages and whose name you’ve simply … forgotten.

-+-

“Have we met before?”

Alec blinked. The guy across from him was still standing up and for a brief moment he wondered if the other could even calm down enough to actually sit somewhere for longer than a heartbeat.

“Uhm, no … I don’t think so?”, he got out, his eyes still as big as saucers because he’d never thought to ever meet someone like that. He had even thought that in a society like theirs people who looked upon the world like him had died out already. Or maybe Alec still couldn’t believe that those eyes were still trained on him. A face-splitting grin accompanied that intense gaze and the stranger pushed himself off the table. He let the shoulder bag slide down to the ground and finally sat down. 

“Great!”, he exclaimed, “I would have hated to forget someone like you.”

“You don’t know me”, Alec said and leaned back a bit. The intensity of the first impact calmed down a bit and his heart wasn’t trying to break out of his chest anymore, though he still kept one hand securely wrapped around his cup of coffee. “Who are you anyway?”

The stranger chuckled softly and suddenly his features turned just as soft. A feeling of warm comfort swept over Alec. He was sure that his hands would have still shaken a bit if he’d been told to hold them up at right that moment. 

“I’m sorry, I tend to … forget those things.” There was a heavy weight to the word 'forget’ on the other’s tongue and Alec wanted to hear that story which sang between the lines. “I’m Magnus, your date.”

“Wow”, Alec said before he could stop himself. When he realized that he’d just said that out loud, he clamped both hands over his mouth and could feel his face turning red. Magnus laughed and his eyes sparkled. How could eyes even sparkle? Alec didn’t know, but Magnus’ eyes could and they did. 

Embarrassment clawed at Alec’s skin, dragged him down. He pressed his eyes shut and wanted to disappear. Why did these things always happen to him?

But then he suddenly felt a warm hand on his. Slowly he opened his eyes again. Magnus had leaned over the table to reach him. Carefully he pried on hand away from Alec’s mouth, green eyes never leaving blue ones. Magnus gently shook his head.

“Don’t look away”, he whispered, “never look away, the world around you will only happen once and we are already cursed to forget most things.”

Alec eyed him skeptically. “There are things I would love to forget”, he muttered, but instantly regretted it when he saw sadness dulling the light of Magnus’ eyes. He wanted to reach out, chase it away. 

“I know”, Magnus whispered with a sad smile that spoke of exhaustion and understanding, “so many people think the same way.” He sat back in his chair and Alec felt like he’d pushed him away. He wanted to reach out once again, but stopped himself before he could actually do it. 

“You don’t?" 

Magnus shook his head in that cute exaggerated way like little children did when their parents asked them - in their opinion - completely obvious questions. It was still cute on him while on everybody else it would have looked ridiculous and arrogant. Then Magnus looked again at Alec wit his head slightly tilted to the right. 

"No, I don’t”, he finally said pursing his lips. Once again there was more to be told, Alec could practically feel the words dancing on his skin, but not being able to catch them, so he didn’t even try and let them fade away. They weren’t his to catch, they were Magnus’ to verbalize. “Or at least, I try my best not to do so.” Magnus chuckled and then the spark in his eyes were back. It spoke of mischief and hushed conversations in the shadows of the world’s attention. 

Alec felt a longing he’d never experienced before, a sense of comfort, a desire to smile and laugh and scream at the same time. Maybe it was happiness. It was so bright and powerful and it was only the beginning. 

“How do you do it? Taking pictures?”

Magnus huffed and Alec found himself laughing. It was so easy that it almost scared him, but he wasn’t scared. He didn’t want to be scared. “No, do you know how much context to have to remember to understand photographs again when you look at them a month later? No, I take notes.” He bent down and pulled a thick notebook out of his shoulder bag. He showed it to Alec, the front covered with random patterns, numbers that didn’t make sense to him, but didn’t had it over. It was the line between Alec and Magnus and something about it felt final, like that line in the sand that you draw as a kid and the sea doesn’t get close enough to wash it away. 

“I always have a pen and a notebook with me. A new one for every week … okay, maybe I have a lot of pens because I can never decide on which color I want to use when I leave the house, but always just one notebook.” Magnus looked at the notebook himself and nodded in agreement with himself. 

“Why one for every week? Why are you so particular about it?”, Alec wanted to know. He leaned forward in his seat, but this time Magnus leaned back. He put the notebook down on the table between them. If Alec would stretch out the fingers of his right hand he could have touched it, but he didn’t. 

Magnus bit his lower lip, picked up the notebook and gently tipped the upper edge against his lips.

“If you give me the chance of a second date after this one’s over”, he said contemplatively, “I’ll tell you.” Then his gaze turned into a silent challenge.

“You know”, he whispered and for a moment his words were Alec’s whole world. “If you don’t forget about it.”

“I won’t.” Alec smiled and felt his own eyes intently trained on Magnus whose face lit up. In the end he had managed to chase away the sadness without reaching over, without touching Magnus. “I promise I won’t forget.”


	18. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallen Angels AU: Alec and Magnus are both on their own mission, it’s just when they meet on a fairy’s balcony that things get complicated.
> 
> Warning: a fairy gets shot, bloody business

Once upon a time a thief and an assassin met.   
It didn’t end well for the fairy.

They met on the balcony of the fairy’s bedroom. One of them ready to leave, the other one just getting there. One minute earlier, one minute later and they wouldn’t have met that night. 

Magnus just pulled himself over the balustrade of the balcony when the double glass door connecting the bedroom with said balcony was pushed open. The person stepping out reminded Magnus of the moon that shone brightly and almost full on the sky above their heads. It was like looking upon a mosaic of black and white with two specks of blue, like those little discolored pieces that weren’t noticed until the piece was finished and then nobody bothered to change them anymore. With closed eyes the other would have been the perfect incarnation of a chiaroscuro painting. The most interesting fact about them though was the fact that they weren’t the fairy Magnus was sent to kill. Not another fairy attending the masquerade ball downstairs either. The young man had a certain appeal to the eye, but he lacked that ethereal kind of beauty that Magnus disliked so much about fairies. He always got a headache when he spent too much time looking at one. This one was nice to look at, though not much more Magnus suspected. 

There had been a time when a pair of blue eyes, black hair and high cheekbones would have sent Magnus swooning. But not anymore. He noted beauty, it was hard not to in a world like this with fairies and demons living so close that they were neighbors, even guests at each other’s parties sometimes. It was a constant display of the stark contrast between beauty and the ugliness of the sins that ruled the ruler of this world. Beauty was more than a mask, but no longer something Magnus liked to indulge in. 

It had been 112 years and 45 days since Magnus had fallen and it had made him bitter. 

“What are you doing here?”, he asked gruffly. It seemed to shake the young man, the not-fairy, out of his surprised stillness. He shook his eyes as if to free his thoughts from the shock that had held them frozen as well. Then he raised his hand and combed through his dark locks, removing the uneven bangs from his face.

“Sorry, you just surprised me”, he muttered, but Magnus didn’t really pay attention. His eyes were focused on the mark next to the man’s left eye. Thin, black lines formed a single feather that was bent around the outer edge of his eye. Magnus had the same mark next to his own left eye. It had been white once, standing out strongly against his dark skin, now it had faded to black, just like the feathers of his wings. 

“You shouldn’t be frozen by have been frozen like that for no other reason than surprise”, Magnus snarled, but was met by a cold gaze that was laced with the kind of arrogant boredom when you’ve gotten spit on once too often. 

“I didn’t ‘freeze’ because of that”, the not-fairy muttered with a growl that reminded Magnus about the attraction that someone could feel for a person without looking at them. “I simply didn’t expect another Fallen One to come here tonight.”

They didn’t use the term 'Angel’ anymore. In this world it was a slur that got thrown after you on the street when somebody noticed the feather next to your left eye. It was a mark that couldn’t be covered by makeup. 

“Well”, Magnus said as his gaze wandered to the bulge on the inside of the other’s open leather jacket. It was a warm night after all. “I dare say we aren’t here for the same reason anyway. You’re a thief, right?”

The young man nodded slowly, but his eyes were now intently trained on Magnus’ face like he was looking for something that Magnus hadn’t found himself yet. 

When you fell you automatically became the servant of one of the higher ranked demons, always with the possibility to raise enough in ranks among servants to be sent out on your own to either deliver, steal, spy or kill. Every Fallen One received the same treatment, food, clothes, a place to stay, but not everyone was granted the same amount of trust by the demons. 

“Yeah, why are you here?”

Magnus didn’t answer, just lifted his own jacket a bit to reveal a holster strapped over his shoulder. Blue eyes flashed with understanding. A short nod. Then the thief stepped completely out onto the balcony. 

“How long have you been here?" 

How long has it been since you’ve fallen? But they didn’t ask that question anymore either. Fallen Ones had developed their own kind of communication, their own jokes, their own … just something that still belonged to them, that hadn’t been touched by a demon. It was the reason they didn’t just slaughter each other to raise higher. The top killer among them wouldn’t be shot by the second best because it would mean to loose even the last connection to your former life. They had all fallen for a reason and they knew it. Demons and fairies always thought that they had done it because they hadn’t been able to resist the thrill of breaking the rules. The understanding that the world was more complicated than that was something that could only be found among others that had fallen. Sometimes to had to break the rules of heaven, but that didn’t mean that hell was the right place for you. 

"I stopped counting”, Magnus muttered looking over the thief’s shoulder into the dark bedroom. He could see the numbers so clearly in front of his eyes as if they had been painted on the glass of the double doors. 112 years and 45 days. 

“That long … ?” The other’s voice was soft and Magnus wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to listen, nothing else. When his gaze locked with blue eyes again there was a smile on thin, pale lips. A smile that Magnus maybe could have liked in another time, maybe. Not anymore … 

But then these blue eyes flitted to a point behind Magnus, somewhere above his right shoulder. Fear froze those eyes like surprise had done it with the whole body only moments ago. Magnus felt himself smile bitterly because he knew what the thief saw. Wings, crippled, covered with bruises, a sky filled with loose feathers. Only a shadow though because Magnus hadn’t spread them. They would tear through his shirt, through his jacket and they would hurt. He took the chance to look for the thief’s wings, that shadow behind every Fallen One’s back that were only visible to those who knew what it felt like to have wings, who understood the weight of black feathers. 

They weren’t beautiful, they were dull and a mess. On was bend down in an angle that wasn’t natural. A constant showcase of the injuries they suffered when they fell. They never healed. 

“Have you ever heard of a Fallen One that found a way back?” The childish eagerness didn’t mix well with the cold eyes. Magnus huffed.

“Don’t waste your time”, he growled. “This place -”

“HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!”

The door to the bedroom had been opened and the fairy Magnus had come to kill had walked it. He cursed. Why hadn’t he noticed the movement when the doorknob had been turned? He hadn’t payed attention, no, he had payed attention, just to the wrong things. 

The fairies face turned into an ugly mask as he rushed over to the balcony. That was the difficult thing about fairies and why they survived door to door with neighbors, they could be as lethal as they were beautiful. There was no police to call like the humans did, there were claws and sharp teeth, not to mention the fury about somebody preaching the lines of their property. Fairies weren’t really known for their forgiving nature. 

A lot of things happened at once. The thief turned around while moving forward to the balustrade at the same time, but he was too close to the doors, too far from the balustrade. The fairy had almost reached the glass doors when Magnus’ instinct kicked in. He grabbed his weapon from the holster, pulled it out, shot. He could almost feel the bullet grazing the thief’s temple like he could feel it breaking through the fairy’s skull. With one foot already outside on the balcony the fairy fell down, dead before he hit the ground at the same time as the thief reached the balustrade right next to Magnus. 

A fine line of blood trickled down his temple and Magnus didn’t know why this seemed so important to him at that moment. 

The thief looked back at the dead fairy then up at Magnus, just looking, no words, no sound, just silence that weighed heavily enough on Magnus’ shoulders to give him a stiff neck. Magnus glared down at blue eyes. This guy had messed up his whole night already. The other guests downstairs had for sure heard the sound of the shot because Magnus hadn’t the time to use the silencer. They would be on his heels if he didn’t get out of here immediately because if a Fallen One was caught on one of the missions the demon he worked for didn’t give a damn. It was the risk of being allowed to leave on your own.

“Whatever you heard, kid, forget it”, Magnus hissed. “There’s no way back, so don’t try anything stupid, okay? There’s no place for heroes in this world.”

The thief had smiled and now Magnus definitely knew that he hated that smile, no matter what he had thought before. “And yet you saved me”, he whispered and the smile turned into a smirk, that struck a nerve deep inside Magnus, a nerve that he’d been sure was dead for 12 years and 45 days by now. 

-+-

When the dead body was found the balcony was empty with only a single white feather sticking to the fairy’s blood. Nobody knew what to make of it because in this world no demon nor fairy had ever seen one.


	19. Dictionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> librarian!Alec and soon to be teacher!Magnus meet at the library where dictionaries are used in a way they shouldn’t be used. (And everybody ignores the question if animals are even allowed in libraries.)
> 
> (I was heavily sleep deprived when I wrote this.)

Working in a library was fun, Alec decided. But after two years he also had to accept that it was highly frustrating. For once he liked books which was one of the reasons he worked there, but a lot of teenagers who were kind of forced by their teachers to at least visit the local library once on their life, did not. They did’t treat the book with that same kind of gentle respect like Alec did and would have liked for them, too, and above all else …

… they didn’t know how to use a damn dictionary. 

Alec had stopped counting the times he’d have to explain where the abbreviations were explained, that other forms with the same word were explained later on and yes, one word could indeed have multiple meanings and look they were even explained just in the next line. He was pretty sure that he’d start throwing stuff (no books though, he’d never do that) when the first kid came up to him asking which later came after G. These kids were all so hung up on their translation apps that they almost went into shock when Alec explained to them that inside the library they didn’t have a signal and no, there was no free wifi either. Though they were contemplating the wifi-thing after a student fell out of one of the windows breaking an arm while trying to get a signal without leaving the building. 

So, it was understandable that Alec positively beamed at that one guy coming up at his counter asking:

“Hey, handsome, were do you keep the dictionaries?” Alec was so ecstatic about the other’s interest that he completely forgot to be embarrassed about the endearment which he did catch. His brain simply reacted about half an hour too late for it to be too embarrassing. 

“Third row, fifth shelve from the top, on the left”, he replied enthusiastically about which he’d be mortified around the same time when his brain would catch up with realization of the endearment. The guy that had asked, looked at Alec for a moment with that kind of warm smirk on his lips that made Alec all warm and fuzzy inside and totally overruled the former.

“Well, somebody knows his way around here.”

Alec grinned at him with what he hoped didn’t look like the crazy grin of a serial killer. “The perks of working here for two years”, he said and winked. He was instantly mortified with himself, but managed not to let the grin slip of his face. Yes, the guy was cute wearing a bright green hoodie with a yellow shirt underneath - some reference Alec didn’t get - and black skinny jeans. Alec was sure there were also shoes involved, but he couldn’t see them without leaning over the counter. He was also sure that the other was about five years younger than him which meant he was off limits. It also meant that Alec had a minor breakdown over his lousy attempt at flirting with him for a whole new reason. 

“Well then, I’ll let you know if I need help with something else.” The cute guy waved like the world was all sunshine and roses and he hadn’t just been hit on by a creepy older librarian. Alec wanted to hit his head against the wooden plate of his desk. 

Calm down, Lightwood, you’re only twenty-three … and students these days look way older than they actually are. Maybe that particular one even skipped a few classes? Alec sighed, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. He ended up getting fingerprints on his glasses and got a chance to contemplate the value of his single-life while cleaning them. When he put them on again it was just in time to see the guy with the green hoodie that probably could be from a distance of a mile in misty weather, walking by his counter with six dictionaries stacked on top of each other. He threw Alec an easy smile and would have probably waved at him as well, but in the current situation that would have sent the books flying to the floor, so Alec was very glad that the other decided against the wave. Alec found himself smiling back and even waving himself, but as soon as the other guy disappeared between the rows of shelves on the other side of the first floor of the library Alec froze asking himself what the hell he was doing. 

He decided to try and get some paperwork done before he’d have to fight against aggressive screaming again as soon as one of the other students, currently huddling close to one of the windows (they could be locked now and the working librarian was the only one with the key), would come over to ask stupid questions again. It wasn’t that Alec had anything against students in general, but … yeah, maybe he was just a little bit prejudiced. But still, apart from Green Hoodie they had yet to prove him wrong. 

After the second sheet of paper Alec heard a soft sound that came close to hissing. He stepped out from behind his counter and listened closely. 

There, again. Some muttered words as well, but Alec didn’t catch them. 

Again.

He followed the hissing which came closer and closer to that description every time it sounded. Then he turned another edge which made him able to look into one of the rows of Fantasy novels and almost yelled ‘WHAT THE FUCK?’. A whispered 'The Fuck?’ still slipped out. 

Green Hoodie was standing - STANDING on the pile of dictionaries he’d been carrying over before and trying to reach for something at the top of the shelf on the left. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”, Alec demanded to know and suddenly the other guy wasn’t that cute anymore. It didn’t matter that he had skin with the color of caramel or really great legs in those jeans or pretty eyes or amazing cheekbones. Standing on books or even thinking about using books like that was just something he wouldn’t let slide. There would have to be really good sex before he’d forgive the simple thought of doing something like that and Alec hadn’t gotten that in almost 12 months which led to the conclusion that he was damn close to just pushing Green Hoodie to the ground picking up the dictionaries and taking them back to their shelves. By the Angel, this was worse than a student not knowing the alphabet. 

Green Hoodie looked down at Alec contemplatively for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times without saying anything and Alec was ready to tear apart any sad excuse he’d bring forth. Though when he actually managed to say something it was something so unexpected that Alec couldn’t form a complete sentence himself in response:

“My cat got up there and now that I have to go, I’m trying to get him back down, but I think he fell asleep somewhere in the middle where I can’t reach him. You don’t have thicker books than dictionaries, do you?”

Alec blinked once, twice … then he squeezed his eyes shut and made indistinct hand gestures until he finally managed to articulate his disbelief. “What?”

Green Hoodie sighed. “My cat”, he repeated and no, Alec didn’t miss the way he said it slower than before accentuating the words more clearly. “He fell asleep. Now I have to go. But I don’t want to leave him.”

Alec glared at him. He wasn’t a five-year-old that failed to grab the concept of 'No sweets before dinner’. It stung even more when he took into consideration the estimated age of the other guy. He was the younger one, Alec should be the one using this terribly annoying way of communicating, not the other way around. 

“I got that”, Alec growled, demonstratively pushing his glasses up his nose. The other’s eyes followed the movement and Alec didn’t understand the sudden change in the atmosphere. But he handled it like he always did, he ignored it and went on with his original plan which was avenging those poorly misused dictionaries. “My question is, why the hell you have to use poor already misunderstood dictionaries to get up there?" 

Green Hoodie smirked amusedly. "Misunderstood?" 

"Don’t fight me on that one, you’ll loose.” Alec crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“I took my shoes of”, Green Hoodie protested and elegantly jumped down without throwing over the pile of books which Alec was very thankful for. He still thought it was unfair how the other managed to even looking good while committing such a heinous crime. “And how else should I have gotten up there?”

Alec rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. “With a ladder?”

“You have one?”

“No, I just jump really high to get to the books in the top shelves - yes, of course we have a ladder. Even two on good days.” Alec snorted and blew a strand of black hair out of his forehead. It was childlike and unsuccessful, he knew that, but he liked being childishly stubborn some days. He wasn’t a big fan of being unsuccessful though. He almost lost when Green Hoodie crossed his arms in front of his chest as well and leaned against the shelves with a smirk on his lips that made Alec swallow heavily. 

“So, if-” The other was interrupted by a soft 'meow’ and when they both looked up a tiny kitten looked over the edge down at them with sleepy eyes. “Chairman”, Green Hoodie exclaimed and Alec didn’t feel so bad about calling him 'Green Hoodie’ for the past half hour anymore. The kitten looked down for a few more seconds, yawned and then jumped in Green Hoodie’s head. 

Alec was close to pinching himself when the student beamed at Alec. “Okay, I am sorry for stepping on the dictionaries, but I didn’t know that you had a ladder I could have used.”

“Why didn’t you just ask?”, Alec muttered. How was he supposed to be angry at a cute guy with the cutest kitten ever sitting on his head and an earnest - still stupid, but whatever - apology on his lips. “Students these days.”

The other’s grin grew even wider and it reminded Alec of the look his sister gave him whenever she had something planned that was against the rules. Green Hoodie pushed himself off the shelves - 'Chairman’ complained with a soft whine - and took two more steps towards Alec. He was taller than Alec which was terribly unfair. 

“I’m not a student, sweety”, he whispered. “I’m 25 years old and close to becoming a teacher.”

Oh. Oh.

This time Alec’s brain totally caught up with the awkwardness of the situation and his face was burning within seconds.

“Oh.” Unfortunately Alec’s brain also saw it fit to add another comment which lead to his lips moving and saying something like “Well, it still stands that you mistreated those dictionaries for which you should have a higher respect, you know … with planning to become a teacher. A teacher shouldn’t do that. Like not at all, at all times. It’s just not-”

A finger on his lips stopped the rambling instantly. It didn’t stop the blushing, though. Alec had the feeling he was pretty close to an internal combustion. Green Hoodie still smirked and Alec hated the effect that damn smirk had on him. In addiction to that cat … it should be illegal for a cat to be that cute. This wasn’t okay.

“So, is there a possibility that you might forgive me if I treat you to dinner? I’m Magnus, by the way.”

Now Alec could have said just 'yes’ or even 'Hell yes!’, but no.

“You’re willing to spend money just to get on my good side again?” He had honestly just wanted to glare at the other’s back while he carried the dictionaries back to their designated shelves and then he would have graciously forgiven him. But a date? The offer of an actual date?

“I can tell you, that by now …” That damn finger slowly, torturously slowly moved along Alec’s lower lip. “I would do a lot to get on your good side again.” Then a smile and that cat and Alec knew he had lost.

“What if it would be enough for you to carry the dictionaries back to their shelves and promise not to do anything like that again?” Yes, his brain was obviously a lost case, too.

“What if I still want to treat you to dinner?”

Alec swallowed heavily. 

“I get off at nine”, he croaked his throat suddenly very dry. “Now put your shoes back on and carry those dictionaries back to where you found them.” Then he turned around and prayed to all the gods he knew that he wouldn’t run into someone or something on his way back to the counter.


	20. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus hasn’t slept for five years because he tried to control his nightmares instead of facing their sources, so he cursed with insomnia. One night a nightmare (Alec) finds him and ‘offers him a deal’.

Sleeping Beauty had been cursed to fall asleep for a hundred years. 

Magnus had always wondered if she had dreamt anything in that time. 

-+-

The door made that soft ‘click’-sound when Magnus drew it shut behind him and made his way to the stairs that led down to the street. But before taking the first step he always stopped for a moment to look out at the sea that was so close to his new apartment. It was one of those little boxes out by the sea with the door being about two meters above the ground and simple metal stairs connecting it to the ground. Magnus liked to pretend he lived in Venice and had a gondola waiting for him at the last step. It never was the case, but he could … imagine it. 

Dreaming wasn’t an option anymore because Magnus didn’t sleep anymore and therefore was evaded by dreams. He hadn’t slept for the past five years. 

After gazing out at the dark sea Magnus made his way down the stairs turned right at the corner of the small apartment building and headed over to the main street which would lead him to the supermarket where he always covered the night shift. Other than the beach Magnus could see from his living room window and the entrance door of his apartment, the street was crawling with dreams. Most of them were shaped like animals; cats, dogs, wolves, a bear here and there, a few squirrels always close to making Magnus trip over his own feet. Their fur was black with tiny little lights scattered across there boys , moving lights that if you looked close enough made up zodiac signs. Other dreams were shaped like humans, but always with masks, bright and colorful, like they were worn at the carnival in Venice. They wore costumes, too, silver and gold, turquoise and white, violent and orange; fabrics covered with intricate designs, long, flowing silk gowns, feathery waistcoats. Sometimes Magnus could see the eyes glow in the holes of the masks, but sometimes there was only darkness. 

Soundlessly these dreams moved through the streets, stopped beneath flickering street lamps, disappeared into empty, narrow alleyways. They entered and left the houses through the shadows of the night, never all of them moving into one direction, but none ever got close to the beach. In the beginning Magnus had tried to talk to them, thinking that maybe they could help him with the curse or at least simply keep him company, but none had ever reacted and whenever Magnus got close to them they only moved out of the way or vanished completely. 

After a few months Magnus had stopped trying. Dreams belong to the people that dreamt them, to the sleeping world. As an insomniac Magnus was allowed to see that world, get glimpses of what happened in other people’s minds, but he would never be a part of it. 

As usual on his way down the street the dreams moved out of Magnus’ way and sometimes he walked through bigger groups on purpose just to see them scatter, like pigeons. Only that dreams didn’t have wings. They were earthbound like humans and in a way that made Magnus smile.

“Hey, Cat,” Magnus greeted his colleague Catarina who sat behind the counter as a perfect embodiment of boredom. Her face visibly brightened though when she noticed Magnus.

“Hey there, sleepwalker, great to see you.”

Magnus copied her grin and simply shook his head while rolling his eyes at her. He’d gotten the nickname among colleagues because he was known for taking the night shifts and the others always joked that he had to be getting through his shifts by sleepwalking because nobody could manage so many night shifts without serious sleep deprivation. Magnus had never told them about the curse, had never commented on their wild theories and always just smiled at the silly nickname. There was a cruel edge about the whole thing for him, but he knew that everything would be more complicated if he’d try to explain things.

Magnus disappeared into the small back room to change into his boring uniform. Blue shirt, blue shirt black pants, black shoes, a name tag that had begun to fade last year. Nothing like the fine costumes of the dreams outside on the street. Catarina never saw them when she left the market with one last wave of her right hand, one last smile before Magnus only saw her back getting smaller and smaller, wandering from one streetlamp to the next. Magnus’ gaze followed her, watched as black squirrels climbed the wall of a house right next to her, how a bear with the Big Dipper on his back lazily walked over to the other side of the street when Cat got to close. A group of four girls in long, shimmering dresses and masks that only covered half their faces hurried past Catarina with quiet giggles on their lips. 

Nothing more than a cold breeze. 

The girls passed the supermarket, the dirty light of the neon lamps didn’t touch them. Their eyes didn’t notice Magnus and eventually they disappeared like leaves being picked up by the wind. 

With a heavy sigh Magnus let his gaze wander down the street again and suddenly they were held by the gaze of blue eyes, looking right at him from behind a surprisingly simple mask. The person tilted their head, then tipped an index finger agains the indifferent lips of their mask, neither smiling, nor crying. But Magnus was held by those eyes. Not because they were blue, but because they were as big, as questioning as his own had to be at the moment. They were looking at him. 

The clothes were simpler than the ones of other dreams, but still the person was dressed in a black pinstripe suit, with a waistcoat, no tie, but a white scarf and a black button-down shirt. This attire was combined with a black trench coat. It was an oddly monochromatic attire for a dream yet there was something otherworldly about the person standing there close to a streetlamp whose light got extinguished the moment the stranger moved their hand away from the unmoving lips of the mask. 

Magnus squinted into the darkness and wanted to turn off all the lights at that moment, only to find those eyes in the night again. Hastily he moved out from behind the counter and speed walked over to the entrance of the supermarket. The moment the automatic doors slid open the lights extinguished instantly. Magnus felt a feather brush his arms, heard the sound of wings beating, the cry of a bird, a raven? A crow?

“Hi.” All the street lamps got extinguished and these blue eyes were back, right in front of Magnus. The mask didn’t cover the lower half of the face anymore. The voice was male. Magnus could utter a word. He had never seen a dream so close. There was something different about this one. Less colors and the others had fled, something Magnus only noticed absent-mindedly. 

The street was empty. It had never been empty during the past five years. Never had there been an empty night for Magnus when he’d stepped outside. 

“Hi.” Magnus’ throat was dry, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Who are you?”

A hesitant smile played on the other’s pale lips. His skin was pale as well, but it didn’t glow like people liked to describe it in books. No. His eyes didn’t glow either. “Who are you?”

The smile faded. 

“A nightmare,” the young man whispered. But maybe he was still a boy. Maybe he wasn’t real after all. He reached up slowly as if not to startle Magnus, as if he was scared Magnus would turn around and run … as if he didn’t have a clue that Magnus was rooted in place by the other’s simple gaze.

“What?”

Fingertips touched the white mask and carefully pulled them away from the nightmare’s face. There were no strings attached and ass soon as the mask lost the contact to the pale skin it simply vanished. Nothing more than white dust turning into black stars. 

“A nightmare,” the blue-eyed boy repeated, the smile slowly coming back, tugging at the corners of his lips. “Never seen one?”

There were the silhouettes of three little birds with spread wings building a line which started under the other’s right eye. The next bird was on the side of his nose and the third one above his left eyebrow. They seemed frozen in their movement, but as Magnus took a closer look they suddenly began lazily flapping there wings, moving across pale skin and disappearing into the chaos of the black strands. 

“No,” Magnus whispered, still trying to find the birds, feeling the almost unbearable urge to touch the nightmare’s forehead, to brush away the bangs, tasting the skin with his own fingertips. “I didn’t …”

He didn’t finish the sentence because right there he was reminded of the reason why he was in this situation to begin with. 

It had started after the death of his mother. The nightmares. Back when he’d still been able to sleep, to dream. They had haunted him, mocked him when he’d tried to escape the maze that everybody entered when they fell asleep. The maze was the place where dreams really happened, where they were most powerful. The creatures Magnus passed on the street every night were mere shadows of the dreams’ real shape. Glimpses, nothing more. 

But Magnus had turned against his nightmares, had exchanged fear and guilt for anger, had tried to tear down the walls of the maze, and that was when he’d gotten cursed. Nobody was allowed to temper with dreams. Nobody was allowed to fight his own nightmares. It was the fear itself that should be fought, the guilt, the experience which lead to the nightmares. Magnus should have gone into therapy after finding the dead body of his mother, but he had refused to do so. Nightmares were warnings, but Magnus had understood their real meaning too late. 

He took a step back, eyeing the nightmare standing in front of him now skeptically. “What do you want?" 

The other started at the sudden change in his demeanor and something happened that Magnus had never thought possible. Fear flashed in blue eyes. A nightmare that was scared? A pale hand went out to hold him, to prevent Magnus from turning and running. Nightmare were never good news, never something to be fascinated with. But the moment the boy’s — maybe he was a young man after all? — fingertips touched Magnus’ wrist the glass window of the supermarket cracked, a thousand cracks ran across them and the air was filled with black feathers, the angry cries of crows, or ravens, or gods of revenge. 

The nightmare drew his hand back instantly, but it had already been enough to freeze Magnus where he stood. His nightmares had been like that, not exactly like that, but this experience of a sudden change of the control being torn away from him so instantly was exactly the same. Magnus had thought he’d be over it by now, that he had grown over the past five years, but that wasn’t the case. 

He still hadn’t gone into therapy, one touch at the right place of his heart was enough to send him spiraling back into that dark hole. 

"What do you want?”, he croaked. His breathing was heavy, his legs felt were shaking. Old anger rose in his chest. Anger, that didn’t know what to do or where to go the moment Magnus caught blue eyes big and full of apologies. 

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t know the backlash would be so strong. I-I thought it would be okay because I am not your nightmare.” Pale lips stumbled over words that dripped down on Magnus’ skin like ice water. “Are you hurt?”

Magnus’ legs gave out and his knees hit the cold linoleum floor. The blue-eyed boy sank down to the floor as well, his face an honest mask of worry while he carefully kept his distance. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Magnus whispered feeling his shoulders sag. He felt tired like he hadn’t in years, something that went deeper than simple exhaustion. “You just scared me.”

Worry was replaced by bitterness in those blue eyes that maybe had a certain glow to them after all. “I know, I do that to people.” The nightmare took a deep breath. “But I want to change that.”

The birds on his skin peaked out from under his bangs again and traveled around the edge of his left eye down over his cheek, along his jaw, their wings brushing the curve of his lower lip and eventually moving towards the collar of his shirt.

“What?” Magnus wanted to leave, wanted to bring more space between him and those blue eyes. A single neon lamp blinked back to life again, a dying star in the sea of darkness. The nightmare’s gaze flickered towards the light. He pressed his lips together, creating a strict line. There was tension in his whole body. Magnus could hear the beating of wings. 

“I want to change.” The stranger’s expression was drenched in determination. “And I want you to help me. I don’t want to be a nightmare anymore.” His voice rose, grew stronger with every word, invisible chains were under extreme tension. There was a drop of pure desperation causing the nightmare’s heart to finally burst. A nightmare with a heart. A nightmare with tears in his eyes. What an odd thought, Magnus wondered. “I want to get rid of these birds!”

Feathers burst from the ceiling, covering the floor like snow. The mask was back, only covering one blue eye, but the white color was harsh even against the already pale skin. Only then did Magnus notice how fast his heart was beating pumping fear and nervousness through his veins. 

“How am I supposed to help you?” Magnus stared at the those blue eyes and was sure if he’d be allowed to dream they would haunt him for many nights. 

“You did it once before.”

“What?”

The nightmare threw his hands in the air. “You changed things.”

“Yeah, and it got me cursed!”, Magnus yelled, “I got cursed because I tried to temper with dreams because I tried to change my own nightmares and I failed! Didn’t you get the note?” He was angry, so angry at that boy who dared to come looking for him to look at him with these hopeful eyes of a color that didn’t fit a nightmare at all. Eyes that grew so big with surprise, understanding and disbelieve that it became almost physically painful.

“You think you failed?” That voice that was so unbelievably soft. “You have no idea.” He kneeled down in front of Magnus, the reappeared part of his mask slowly fading again, while still paying close attention to keeping some safe distance between them. Magnus narrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Of course I did, I was cursed with insomnia. I’m not allowed the return to the maze of dreams and all the dreams, those that I can still see, simply ignore … I don’t see how I could help you.”

The nightmare smiled one of those smiles that only made sense in nightmares. One of the birds on his skin peeked out from under his shirt collar again. It grew bigger, spread his wings until they covered half the nightmare’s face. The neon lamp in the far back of the supermarket died again. 

“You haven’t seen the nightmares after you woke up that last time,” words like cold silk reached Magnus’ ears. For the first time in years he wanted to close his eyes and drown in them. “You changed them, changed their masks. They’ve been smiling or crying after that night. But nightmares don’t wear masks with emotions painted on them … our masks are just neutral. Our emotions live beneath the mask because the unknown is what most people fear the most.” The blue-eyed young man stretched out his hand, but stopped right in front of Magnus’ face and drew back again. The rattling of invisible chains sounded in the distance. “All of the dreams were ordered to stay away from you, especially your own nightmares from back then.”

Magnus swallowed heavily as he tried to understand what was going on. He had made a change? HE HAD MADE A CHANGE?! That was the reason why he’d been cursed with insomnia? Or maybe he wasn’t cursed after all, maybe it was just a side effect of being expelled from the maze of dreams?

“What if I refuse?” His throat was dry like sandpaper again. His tongue felt heavy and simply forming words already exhausted him. The air around him grew still, not even the feathers on the ground moved anymore. Nothing moved except for the dark wings on pale skin. Thin lips formed words as Magnus was sucked in by the intensity of the dark-blue gaze. This wasn’t ice and 'frozen’ was a word way to weak to explain what was going on. The nightmare came closer, raised his hand again as if to brush the fingertips against Magnus’ cheek, but they never touch his skin. 

“I will haunt you until you agree to help me.” The words weren’t spoken, they were felt, vibrating deep inside Magnus’ bones. 

“You can’t,” he choked out. I don’t fall asleep anymore, he thought because his tongue refused to move. 

“Just another rule to break.” The nightmare stood back up again and suddenly held the white mask that would cover his whole face in his right hand again. He smiled. “I can show you the way back into the maze again … and after all, you already are an insomniac. What’s there to loose?”

'My sanity,’ a little voice inside of Magnus’ mind whispered. 'My sanity!’ But he wanted to go back, wanted to find his old nightmares again, wanted to know what they looked like now. He didn’t say anything when he looked up at the nightmare who’s smile grew. He put his mask back on and one after one the lights in the supermarket came back to life. The street lamps flickered. Slowly the shadows retreated again, made space for the dirty stars that littered streets at night. A cat with black fur and some star constellation pinned on its right side jumped down from a balcony on the other side of the street. 

But there were also two teenagers standing in front of Magnus who was still sitting on the ground. 

“Are you okay?”, they asked worriedly. Magnus blinked and then hurried to get back up. 

“Yeah, sure. I’m fine, sorry, just stumbled over something,” he muttered. They nodded and walked over to some aisles where they would either alcohol, some snacks or condoms. Magnus returned behind his counter his eyes intently focused on the street outside. Slowly it filled again with dreams, tall and short, thick and thin, blue and orange. 

The nightmare was gone, but Magnus wanted him to come back. 

He smiled. What an odd thought.

-+-

Sleeping Beauty had been cursed to sleep for a hundred years.

Sometimes Magnus wondered if a nightmare could have woken her up before that prince had even been born.


	21. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus gets dragged to an art exhibit and encounters the enigmatic artist.

When it came to art Magnus had always wondered ‘why?’. 

When he looked at modern paintings, he had always asked himself 'What?’.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like art, paintings, photographs, sculptures, but he pondered the relevance of galleries. For him, paintings and sculptures needed a context, a certain environment, so to say. For him, they didn’t breathe on their own, they were a part of a certain life and that’s where they should be looked at, instead of being pressed against a cold, sterile, white wall. 

Buying paintings for an extraordinary sum of money had always seemed to Magnus as an attempt to buy the painting’s sympathy, so it would become part of your own life, although it would always stay a part of the artist’s life, no matter how much money was involved. 

But maybe it was also due to the fact that Magnus lacked the money to buy the paintings he really liked. Right now, for example, he stood in front of an amazing painting that didn’t show much more than clouds with a sun placed in the right upper corner. The canvas was rectangular, way longer than high, but somehow the rays of sunlight broke through the clouds crowding the painting and reached even the farthest, the left lower corner. The clouds were made out of shades of orange and red, like the sunlight set them on fire. A setting sun? A rising sun? Who knew. 

There was also a little red dot right next to the painting. It was already sold. Magnus snorted. Of course. And then again … really?

He looked around the room at all the people wearing fancy clothing, drinking fancy alcohol, looking at the paintings with an expression of utter knowledge, like they could see more between the visible brush marks than even the artist himself. Well, maybe Magnus shouldn’t judge so easily, seeing as he himself was also wearing a suit and nipping at a glas of champagne for the past hour. The stuff was simply too dry. 

It was the opening of the exhibition and paintings had already been sold? He sighed. And where was Catarina anyway? Or the guy with the food? There had been food before, Magnus was sure … if you could call those little crackers with some sort of cream artfully spread on top of them actually food. 

With another resigned sigh, Magnus turned away from the painting, that he wouldn’t have been able to afford anyway, and decided to look for the bathroom. On the way through the next room - filled with some smaller paintings, placed on the wall in a row - he put his glass on the tablet of one of the waiters. Though he didn’t come across the one with the crackers. 

Another thing about galleries was, that they were so very discreet, so Magnus wouldn’t put it past the owners that they’d put the toilet-sign behind one of the paintings. Just so the guests could pretend to be interested in the painting and not looking for the bathroom. But eventually Magnus found a white door - hidden by the white wall surrounding it - that had some washed out sign next to it. It was the first door nearest to the entrance and Magnus decided to take his chance. 

He slipped through the door, though it unfortunately didn’t lead to the bathroom, but into a dark staircase. Judging by the floor to ceiling windows it was the part of the building which was hidden behind the mirrored glass Magnus had seen from the outside before entering the building. It was late and by now the soft glow of moonlight broke through the windows, showing Magnus that he wasn’t alone. The door clicked shut behind him almost soundless. 

In front of the window was a low balustrade, probably to prevent anybody from 'accidentally’ falling through the window. On that balustrade with his back against the opposite wall of Magnus sat a young man. His face was turned towards Magnus, one leg placed on the balustrade, the other one lazily dangling down, almost reaching the floor. Almost. Long, elegant fingers of a slim hand held a glass of champagne. He had probably fled the event at the gallery, too, though he wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. He wore washed-out jeans and a white shirt. Over his lap was thrown something that could have been a black hoodie. Or just a dark color, didn’t have to be black. 

The man smiled and it wasn’t exactly cold, but not really warm either, like that first spot of paint on a clean canvas, but the artist still didn’t really know what picture he wanted to paint. The brush was hovering over the canvas like the gaze of the young man hovered over Magnus, his blue eyes softly touching his shoulders, brushing the line of his jaw, jumping to his forehead, locking with his own eyes. 

The stranger tilted his head almost playfully, almost. The moonlight took the warmth that might have bloomed on the oddly fascinating face in broad daylight. Sharp shadows were painted over high cheekbones, made the strands of black hair appear like ink splattered against the white wall of the staircase.

“Hey there.” Cold laughter was hidden between the words and Magnus was sure that if he would have kissed him in this instance, he would have tasted it on the man’s lips. 

“Hey”, he eventually said, taking a deep breath, trying to control the urge of stepping closer. Much closer. The urge to brush away the moonlight from the other’s skin. 

“Nice suit.” Blue eyes swept over Magnus’ body in the way that cold water did, or wind maybe … or just paint, poured directly from the bucket. “Attending the vernissage?”

Magnus nodded. 

The next smile was filled to the rim with shards of glass, but Magnus had the feeling that they were just memories of old scars. “So? What do you think?”

“About the vernissage or about the paintings?”

Fabric rustled quietly when the black-haired man sat up. He put down the foot from the balustrade. Now both his feet dangled above the floor, almost touching it. Tension shifted between them, grew more prominent.

“The paintings.”

“I like them, but I don’t understand the titles.” On the little signs next to every painting their titles had been written in black little letters. Always only one word. Desperation. Hollowness. Inside. Outside. Hatred. Not exactly Magnus’ first association when looking at the clouds with natural light streaked across them. 

There was real amusement lighting up those blue eyes, fireflies already frozen by the cold light of the moon, but still trying to stay alive.

“Maybe there’s nothing to understand.”

“What do you mean?”

The chuckle turned into a broad smile, that wanted to provoke, but was honest at the same time and Magnus wanted to drink it in, kiss it away from those lips to keep it hidden. A secret only known to him. 

“Maybe I just put the titles there to see people speculating about their meaning? Which theories would they come up with? What deep, troubled soul would they see? What connections would they draw? What would they do? What would happen?" 

Magnus swallowed heavily and didn’t even know why. He was talking to the artist, the one he’d been looking for the whole evening, but he’d never found him. Now his attire began to make sense. It was known, that many creative people weren’t exactly fond of dressing up. Not all of them, of course, but quite a few, who Magnus knew. 

The artist grinned almost predatorily. "Maybe I like them to question their own understanding of reality.”

Magnus nodded again, entranced by the man before him. “Is that why you sign your work with nothing but an X? To keep them guessing?”

The predator vanished as soon as he had come, hidden by dark smoke and boredom. Maybe there was loneliness, but then again, everybody looked kind of lonely when they were drenched in moonlight. 

“No”, the other man whispered, tilting his head again, but this time to the other side. “It’s just everything that is left of my name.”

Magnus cocked one eyebrow. “Really?”, he asked cautiously, intently studying the artist’s face, but there was nothing else apart from shadows and moonlight and a cold flame holding them together

“Maybe.”

The next chuckle was born in Magnus’ own throat. He felt himself smirk. “I like you.” He was surprised, when the other shook his head with a humorless snort.

“No, you don’t.” The artist’s voice was hoarse, kind of, not a change easily noted, but it scratched Magnus’ skin and it wasn’t pleasant. The next words were pure ice. “You see a mystery, when you look at me”, the younger(?) man whispered, his gaze locked with past memories. He looked right through Magnus. “And you like the idea of being the one closest to that mystery, to be the only one, who knows the most about it, to be the one, who has something on all of those people standing in front of my paintings trying to figure me out. That’s …” He raised his hand with the glass - moonlight got caught in the bubbles of the champagne - pointing it at Magnus as if making a toast. “… that’s the thing you like.”

Silence. One heart was bleeding, another one was waiting to be cut. Tears wanted to be shed, others had already dried. Two souls wanted to scream in pure agony, but kept their mouths shut. Who would listen anyway?

When Magnus didn’t make an attempt to break the silence, the artist hopped off the balustrade, his feet finally touching the floor again. One hand prevented the hoodie from falling next to his feet. He lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it without batting an eyelash. He had so many of them. Then he absent-mindedly stared at the bottom of the now empty glass. 

“Don’t be angry”, he muttered and Magnus wasn’t sure if maybe he was talking to himself. “I make a lot of people angry, you know.” His words were drenched in forgotten tears. “But I like it, I like to provoke them, the people, you know.” He looked up. Something had changed in his eyes, but Magnus didn’t understand what it was. The artist kept talking while slowly moving towards him, his eyes intently focused on Magnus’ own. 

“I like to provoke them because they have made me angry so many times … and I am curious. What if?, I always ask myself. What if I paint the sky at different times of the day and one painting I title with 'Disaster’, but another one 'Smile’? What if I’d stay on the street all day long and hug every person that comes by and asks me why I am standing there? What if …”

He was standing right in front of Magnus now, their height only differed by a bit, their faces only one breath away from each other, his eyes half-closed focused on a point somewhere between Magnus’ nose and his lips. “What if I’d kiss a total stranger?" 

The artist raised his gaze lazily, a smirk on his lips. Magnus wanted to give some clever remark, wanted to turn the tables so badly, but he couldn’t. His head was empty, his mind smothered by blue paint and silence. Every breath they took filled the staircase to the rim, but it wouldn’t explode. Tension crawled over Magnus’ skin, leaving burning traces. 

Then it was over. The slightly shorter man drew back, smiling a little smile that nobody would believe, that Magnus had actually seen it, melting those blue eyes. 

"But I am too shy to actually go through with it”, he whispered like a child telling a friend how he’d managed to get a cookie before dinner. He stepped back, leaving Magnus surrounded by a sudden emptiness. The artist tipped the rim of the champagne glass against his still smiling lips before he stepped around Magnus to get to the door, but just as he was about to open it, Magnus gained back the control over his body.

He spun around and slammed his hand against the solid wood of the door, sealing it closed for the moment. His hand stayed pressed against the door as he lowered his head slowly, taking his time to brush his nose against the messy black hair that somehow smelled like warm light, grazing the shell of the artist’s ear, whispering kisses against the side of the other’s neck, feeling him shudder, before moving back to his ear.

“I still like you.”

Although he hadn’t expected the artist to turn his head, he still enjoyed being able to be this close to him again. If there had been enough space, Magnus was sure, that the shorter man would have tilted his head again, but as it was, he simply let the curiosity shine openly in his eyes. 

“Really?” But that wasn’t childish disbelieve there, only that teenage kind of mistrust and skepticism. 

“Maybe.” Magnus was proud to startle a short laugh out of the man’s throat. 

“What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

There was that smile again, the one of a scheming child, of a satisfied teenager, of a childish adult and Magnus realized that it was the lock to that mystery hidden behind blue eyes. 

Then Magnus stepped back and the artist disappeared through the door. He didn’t follow. He only stood there, relishing the taste of mystery and moonlight and a little bit of warmth. 

-+-

A few days later there was another painting added to the exhibition. The canvas was a square of 50 cm on each side and it was filled with clouds in shades of purple, a full moon placed almost in the middle of the painting. Cold light laced the clouds crowding the edges of the canvas. 

It was titled 'Stranger’.


	22. Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witch!Magnus meets vet!Alec in a sort of urban fantasy-world when a sick cat finds the way into Magnus' sink.

When Magnus walked back into the kitchen there was a cat sitting in his sink. Magnus didn’t own a cat, never had and had sworn himself that he never would because he had a natural aversion to everything that could make him a cliché of a witch in general. He even vacuumed the steps in front of his little house because he couldn’t stand holding a broom. 

Now there was the cat, a tiny cat, with pretty much only the ears peeking over the edge of the sink. Magnus put his empty plate from dinner on the table next to him and carefully moved closer to the sink step by step. The ears oft the cat moved into his direction, listening to every breath his took, probably, but the cat didn’t really move as far as Magnus could see. 

When he stood right in front of the sink, Magnus looked down at the little ball of fluff that technically was too small to even be considered a cat. It looked up at him with big eyes and meowed heartbreakingly soft. It still didn’t move and Magnus began to get concerned. Slowly, and always in the line of sight of the cat, he reached towards it, softly petting it. There were no obvious wounds to be seen, no blood smudged on the grey-striped fur, but when his fingertips brushed the little one’s ears, it became clear what was wrong.

“You have a fever, little guy”, Magnus muttered and instantly knew that he would not be able to go to bed, leaving the sick cat downstairs. He sighed. Why did these things always have to happen late at night? Why not on a sunny afternoon? Magnus did not know how the cat had made its way into his sink, but it had gotten inside and whether he liked it or not, it was his responsibility now. 

“Stupid oaths”, Magnus muttered as he scooped the little ball of fluff out of the dry sink and held it against his chest like an expensive piece of china. The cat shivered and Magnus instantly put his other hand over it. He didn’t want to cast a heat spell in fear of overstimulating the cat’s nervous system, so he settled for a dish towel. Not the most romantic, solution sure, but he was out of cat-sized blankets. And the towel was fluffy and neon green, that had to count for something.

“Okay, little guy, let’s see if I can kick down the door to the next vet around here.”

Since werewolves had been officially marked as in dinger of extinction, every vet was forced by law to have a nightshift or at least one had to provide one in a certain radius of blocks in the city. The one in Magnus’ neighborhood had black hair, blue eyes, a interesting assortment of earrings and was distractingly attractive. 

“What’s up?”, the young man asked through the window in the door and shook Magnus out of the trance of staring at those seriously blue eyes. 

“I-I have a cat”, he stammered, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He was no teenager, come on. He could handle a handsome face. “Uh, I think he’s got a fever?”

The blue eyes flitted to the cat in Magnus’ arms, that or the neon green towel confused him for a second, but who could tell?

“Come in.”

The vet closed the door again behind Magnus and gestured for him to move through the next door, opposite of the entrance door. They entered a room with one of those sterile table Magnus had mostly seen in TV-shows or in a bigger version at the hospital when he’d accompanied Luke his first full moon. The vet switched on a bright light above the table and then came to stand next to Magnus. 

“Okay, let’s see how we can help the little guy.” Magnus noticed that he was wearing a name tag on his white doctor’s shirt. No coat, just the usual white get-up you might know from nurses. ‘Alec Lightwood’. Of course, Magnus remembered reading the name Lightwood outside on the buzzer. 

Watching the way Alec handled the cat, Magnus felt like he instantly trusted him with the animal’s life. Then he got irritated because why would he care? He would give the cat to the shelter anyway. It was a good shelter though. The guidelines for animal shelters had become much stricter since the demonstrations in the 90s. 

“Yeah, he definitely got a fever”, Alec muttered to himself and sat the cat on the table. “Could you hold him here for a bit? I have to get some stuff. He need vitamins and something to lower the temperature.”   
Magnus stepped to the table and put his hands on the shoulders of the cat, but he barely used any energy because the little guy wasn’t about to move anyway, just a soft meow escaped his throat from time to time and before Magnus knew it, he found himself mumbling things like “Don’t worry, it’s going to be alright.” 

Though when Alec got back and had his hands right next to Magnus’ he recognized a long of feather tattoos running around the vet’s wrist. 

A shadowhunter, he thought with mild surprise. They had been on the wrong side of the last war, used as special soldiers and had committed terrible crimes as a group. After their leaders had been defeated, every shadowhunter that wished to start a new life with no military connection was given a tattoo like that which made it impossible for them to use runes, they would just fade when applied to their skin. And the other thing was a number. Each shadowhunter was registered with said number by the government and it was tattooed as well. Mostly on the side of the neck, reaching up until right below the ear. 

Without drawing attention to himself Magnus tried to look at Alec’s neck, wondering why he hadn’t noticed anything before with the short hair and Alec not wearing a scarf or anything. But yes, there it was, or at least remnants of said number. The first too figures where crossed out, scar tissue drawing harsh lines right through the dark ink beneath his skin. The third figure was a 5 and beyond that, the shirt he wore obscured the view. 

Magnus felt his own scars burning at the sight. He had had a number himself running around his left biceps. Witches had been forced to get numbers before the war, but after the Salem-Hunts, Demonstrations and the longest fight in court Magnus had ever witnessed had taken place, the law was removed that required witches to be physically marked apart from the symbols they received during their education in the various circles. They still got listed by the government, but the ones born before that, had gotten the offer of a free removal of the number.

“What happened to your neck?”, Magnus quietly asked after Alec had emptied the last syringe of clear liquid which hopefully would help the cat to get back on his feet soon. 

“I screwed up and accepted the consequences”, Alec replied without missing a beat. He didn’t look at Magnus, but his hands still moved in calculated, calm movement as he cleaned the instruments he’d used.   
Magnus narrowed his eyebrows while his fingers stroked through the fur of the little fluff ball asset-mindedly. “The scars-?”, he began, but was interrupted by a hard gaze of blue eyes. 

“The number … the scars are none of your business.” Alec took a deep breath. “You can leave your address on the counter, I’ll send you a receipt. Take your cat and make sure to keep him warm, but not too warm - I’ll give you something to mix into the food.”

“Oh, no need for that, he’s not my cat. I’ll give him to the shelter.”

Alec halted in his motions. “Excuse me? You’re not going to give a sick cat to the shelter, you … you terrible person.” His eyes blazed with a passionate fire and his indignation was shockingly endearing. 

Magnus raised his eyebrows. “I hardly see how that is any of your concern?”

“What? Of course it is my concern, every animal that I treat is my concern and-”  
“Do you want to keep him?”

Alec opened his mouth, but then closed it again, crossed his arms in front of his chest and awkwardly moved from one foot to the other. He pursed his lips and eventually muttered:  
“I’m not allowed to bring anymore stray animals with me. My landlord already complained about the two dogs last week … But please, don’t give him to a shelter. The one in this neighborhood is already full, they’d probably put him into a too small box and he’d be lonely and - okay, you know what?” Alec clapped his hands, looking about three years younger instantly with that sort of childish determination on his face. “You take him home, and I will come bay tomorrow to take care of him and you can keep him only until he’s healthy again and I will look for a place for him and hey, maybe you can get him a nice choker, with a pentagram on it? He could be the coolest cat in the neighborhood.”

Magnus didn’t use the word ‘adorable’ often, but he thought that it must have been invented for this guy. He smiled and his fingers already got used to the feeling of fur beneath them. 

“Okay, deal. It’s a date.”

“Yes! A date! Wait WHAT?”

Magnus noticed that the scars on Alec’s neck remained pale, almost white even when the rest of the skin was painted deep red by an intense blush.


	23. Sequel to 'Hero'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a sequel to Chapter 18: 'Hero' when I got the prompt for jealous!Magnus and oblivious!Alec over on tumblr. (@freakypumpkin)

“Oh, dear, how did you get that scar?”

Alec’s hand reflexively moved to the small scar on his temple. “This one?” He’d gotten a haircut since Magnus had met him the last time which made it easier to spot the scar, but his wasn’t yet too short to run your fingers through it. Magnus appreciated that. What he didn’t appreciate was the flirtatious attitude of the barkeeper and the waitress of this pub.

Maybe they should go for a drink at a different place the next time they met up after handling their appointments.

“That must have an awfully close call with a weapon, huh?”, added the waitress who had apparently nothing better to do than fawn over Alec. She leaned against the bar right next to the barstool Alec was sitting on and under the pretense of ‘wanting to get a better look at the scar’ she leaned even closer.

“It was a bullet actually,” Alec explained cheerfully and turned his head to the side a bit which also exposed his his pale neck wonderfully to the trailing eyes of the barkeeper.

Sometimes Magnus found it frustrating when Alec had his helpful and good-natured streaks after work, but it had never made him so irrationally angry like this time. What did he care if somebody flirted with Alec? What did he care if somebody touched Alec if Alec was okay with it?  
Yeah, okay, he was jealous and he knew it, but he also knew that he had no right to be jealous. They weren’t dating and it wasn’t like Alec was making fun of Magnus or telling the two low-ranked demons some kind of top secret information.

He was simply being a nice guy.  
And at the same time nothing about Alec had been simple so far.

If he’d been the generic nice guy Magnus could have written him off as naive idiot, but Alec had more layers than that. He could be nice and sweet, but he was also a very skilled thief that could be calculative and just damn sneaky when he wanted to. He was open about himself and yet whenever he told Magnus something personal, it felt more like putting out a bait than making himself more vulnerable.  
In a way Alec had found a way to weaponize what people usually saw as weakness without becoming bitter despite being a fallen angel.

It was painfully attractive. Not to mention that Magnus was still wondering how Alec managed this under a boss like Agramon.  
Magnus’ own boss Asmodeus already was a dick, but Agramon was rumored to go darker than dark.

And how did somebody remain so oblivious to the people flirting with them?

Magnus’ grip on his whisky glass tightened as the barkeeper leaned across the bar, bringing his right hand up to brush over the white line of the scar. Then the fingers of course lingered and of course innocently trailed further down following the line of Alec’s neck this time and eventually resting on his shoulder.

Magnus finished his drink and put the glass back onto the bar with maybe a bit more force than necessary, actively forcing his arm between the barkeeper and Alec. If looks could kill that guy would have burst into flames or turned to dust right on the spot.

“Could I bother you for another one?”, his voice was sweet as honey on a razor blade.

It was a plus-point for the barkeeper to realize that something was going on and he quickly moved back a step from the bar. He hurried away to get the right bottle for the refill.  
Through the exchange and the hasty retreat Alec and the waitress seemingly remembered that Magnus was still there. Alec smiled at him and the waitress raised her eyebrows at him like he was the box of vegetables that nobody had ordered. But Magnus’ eyes were drawn towards Alec anyway.

“He’s the one who shot that bullet actually, but I wasn’t his target. He saved me, I just stood too close.”

The two shocked looks sent his way in combination with the word ‘saved’ made Magnus’ skin crawl. He was no savior and he hated it when Alec looked at him like he’d hung the moon into the sky.

“Well …” Magnus downed the new drink in one go and instantly pushed the glass away from himself again. “Just know that if I had been aiming at you, I wouldn’t have missed.”

Alec rolled his eyes fondly at him before picking up his own glass and silently asking for a refill towards the barkeeper. The guy instantly forgot that Magnus existed again.

“Of course, darling.” He beamed at Alec and filled the empty glass. “This one’s on the house.”

Magnus wanted to play baseball with his head.

-+-

“Why are you in such a foul mood today?” Alec absent-mindedly trailed the line of Magnus’ collarbone, not looking at him as he asked the question. “Did something happen that you want to talk about?”

Magnus had his own small apartment with a nice cozy balcony and warm colors on the walls and the furniture. Alec tried to be there as much as possible between the work for Agramon and his own living quarters in a creepy cellar where he was granted a bunk bed and access to a bathroom. He dreamed of getting his own place when he rose among the ranks or just prove himself a capable enough thief or a loyal enough servant. There were scars on his body that Alec felt much less inclined to talk about compared to the one on his temple.

And of course than there was Magnus within this myriad of earth colors sprinkled with bright pillows and splattered stars on the ceiling. It was always warm here, but not suffocating.

Magnus turned his head towards Alec, looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t quite read.

They were on his small bed, Magnus on his back with no shirt on and Alec straddling his hips. In the past weeks they had ended up spending quite some time together like this. Alec adored Magnus’ tattoos and Magnus tolerated him being this close. Sometimes it led to more, sometimes not.

With a heavy sigh Magnus closed his eyes. “I was jealous,” he said with that calm, dark voice that Alec loved to hear without the usual edge.

He chuckled softly moving his fingers up to the circles tattooed Magnus’ neck. The hitman didn’t wear any jewelry because it could get lost or ripped off somewhere or become a hindrance in a fight. Instead Magnus had two chokers tattooed around his throat, one of them with a pendant, the other just a arrangement of intricate lines that could never really bet translated to the material of actual jewelry.

“Jealous?” Alec grinned and tilting his head a bit as his fingertips followed the interwoven lines of the tattooed choker. “Awww, was the big hitman offended that people were more interest in the little, unimportant thief than him?”, he mocked because the mere idea that Magnus would reach the low level of being jealous of him was just that funny. In the back of his and he also didn’t even take that possibility serious. Magnus had to be joking.

“I wasn’t jealous of you.” Magnus put his hand over Alec’s, making the thief look at him with confusion. The gaze of the hitman were intense, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the dying day. “I was jealous of them.”

“Why?” Completely confused Alec sat back a little, becoming more aware of the position they were in when Magnus himself moved to sit up, too. Though he made sure that Alec wouldn’t get pushed off his lap in the process.

They were so very close and Alec knew that it was stupid to suddenly be so affected by that. They had been close like this many times before, they’ve had sex before for crying out loud. Yet never before had it felt like this. Never before had his heartbeat burned in his chest like this or crawled across his skin. Never before had it felt so terrifyingly intimate like this when Magnus gently placed his hand on Alec’s cheek.

“I was jealous of the way they held your attention … I guess.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences with Magnus’ fingertips burning his skin in the best way possible, drawing torturous lines down to his neck while the other hand slowly moved up from Alec’s hip to his back underneath the loose shirt he wore.

“You were?” The words were heavy on Alec’s tongue and his breathing grew heavier when he saw the smile blooming on Magnus’ lips in response to the disbelieve in his own voice.

Magnus kissed him, slow and gently and yet with a sort of controlled passion that made Alec want to cry warm tears, moving his lips an tongue as if Alec tasted like something unbelievably sweet.

“Yeah … I do appreciate you being around, you know?” Leaving his lips, Magnus moved his lips to Alec’s neck, leaving on kiss after another in the same manner as before, sucking on the skin, skimming his teeth across it, but never too harsh. Alec closed his eyes and let himself feel, simply drowning in the words whispered against his skin.

“I appreciate your smile.”

He tangled his fingers in Magnus’ black hair, relishing in how soft it was, taking in deep breaths of that citrusy smell that he always associated with him.

“I appreciate your lame puns.”

Alec was about to protest, but as if sensing what he wanted to do, Magnus nipped at his earlobe moving both hands high beneath his shirt and taking the words right of his lips.

“I acknowledge your talent as a thief.” With a soft push Alec detached himself of Magnus, so he could take off his shirt and drop it somewhere next to the bed. When he looked down again with is hair definitely being a mess, he found Magnus looking at him with a fondness and a smile that Alec had never thought he’d get to see.

He had always seen their arrangement as Magnus tolerating him, humoring that crush Alec had developed on the older hitman for the sake of the pleasure he got out of the deal.

But this was different.

“I always thought …,” he started, but didn’t get to end his sentence.

Magnus moved his hands to cup Alec’s face the dark lines of tattooed rings on his fingers visible in the corner of his eye.

“I’ll prove it … and I apologize for my jealousy.”

Their forehead were touching and when Magnus’ thumbs moved down to lightly trace the lines of Alec’s lips he couldn’t help but kiss the hitman’s fingertips.

-+-

Alec had always thought after the fall he knew what loosing your sanity felt like. He had been wrong and he had never thought that it could feel so good.


	24. Sequel to 'Nightmare'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got the prompt 'Kitten' and ... this sort of happened. 
> 
> Thank you for kudos and subscriptions and your support in general. <3

You’re a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.

-+-

When you get back home late at night and suddenly your lights don’t work anymore, there’s a nightmare waiting for you in the bedroom.   
When you hear a raven scream in your hallway, run.  
When you catch a feather of the bird, then you’ll be free of nightmares for the next seven years.  
But when the nightmare catches you stealing, they’ll haunt you for the next seven years.

Never take that risk. At least that’s what adults like to tell the children of the town.

Magnus wondered if all nightmares were dressed in such a refined way like this one. But in a way it made sense because the other dreams where always bathed in lustrous colors, a beacon of light and luxury and joy five miles through a foggy night. A nightmare wasn’t meant for that sort of look. The white mask covering their would often give them away, but what could be read from an expressionless mask? Nothing.

If all nightmares were like this one that was.

He was sitting on the edge of Magnus’ narrow bed, when Magnus entered the bedroom. The black pinstripe suit didn’t have one wrinkle. The shirt was black as well, like the last time, though the white scarf ad the trench coat was missing. Magnus stared at the nightmare’s face, still covered by the white mask that sent goosebumps ghosting across Magnus’ skin. There was a raven sitting on hi pillow and his dark eyes carried all the emotion that were washed from the nightmare’s mask. Animosity. The bird didn’t like him.

“I figured you wouldn’t give up,” he muttered letting his backpack fall to the floor. For now he decided to ignore the bird.

It had been seven nights since their first meeting at the supermarket and Magnus had spent the following three days jumping at every little sound around him. On the fourth day he had begun to relax again. On the fifth he had smashed a mirror and on the sixth he had gotten drunk.

He was sober now.

“I had to make some preparations,” the nightmare answered, his voice like cold silk. He raised one arm, fingertips coming to rest carefully on the mask that looked like carved from marble under the cold moonlight. Thin leather gloves covered his fingers, taking nothing from the grace of the way the fingers moved.

When he pulled the mask away from his face, this time it took a while for it to vanish into what looked like moon dust, not settling anywhere. It just vanished. But that was not what Magnus’ eyes were drawn to.   
The nightmare’s eyes were blue like the last time, almost drenched in an unearthly vibrancy, but then again where were nightmares born anyway? Was there a place in this world for them really? Under the right eye there was a scar that hadn’t been there seven nights ago. It was fresh, a kiss of rose against the pale skin and shaped like a bird with spread wings.

“What happened to you?”

The nightmare looked over to the bird sitting on the pillow. “Not me,” he whispered. “You remember the time when I tried to touch you the last time? The feathers in the air?”

“Yes.” The experience of the whole encounter was burned into Magnus’ memory like nothing had been since the sight of his mother when he’d found her all those years ago.

“One of the birds died because of that and this …” The raven on the pillow spread his wings and flapped them in a threatening gesture. For the blink of an eye the bird seemed to grow bigger in the darkness of the moonlit room. Then it was over. The nightmare carefully touched the scar beneath his eye. “This is the sign of a newborn bird. Taking the place of the last one.”

Blue eyes shot a quick glance to the raven and Magnus remembered the other telling him wanted to get rid of the birds like they were his shackles. There was a sense of hopelessness in the lines of the nightmare’s shoulders, that Magnus could relate to - or maybe understand at least. The other was shackled since birth and no matter how often he smashed the shackles or the chains, they would grow back, like the head of the hydra.

“That’s why you need help? You can’t break them, you have to loose them.” Magnus was confronted with pleading eyes. It was a kiss of ice and Magnus knew he would help.   
“Do you have a name?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?”

“No.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you?”

“You won’t have to.”

The nightmare’s voice took on an excited tone as he rose from the bed, brushing invisible dust from his pants. Magnus watched him with pursed lips. He hated it to be shut down like that.

“I could give you a name,” he mused remembering a strategy from his darker days, or the time in his life when he’d still been allowed to dream and sleep, when he was tortured every night by guilt and anger at the world. At first he’d felt overwhelmed by words around him, by voices and sounds because they would fuse together to the chaotic soundtrack of the night Magnus’ mother had committed suicide. Hectic voice, police sirens, forms to signs, questions being asked, so many name tags flooding his senses, names heard, names written. It made him scream and burn books until the black ink on the pages stopped laughing at him.   
Then he’d started to give names to everything. His own names. He controlled the ink. He made the decisions. It had helped. A bit. Not always and not completely, but still. His mind was free, right?

I name you Alexander, Magnus thought, the protector. He remembered the fear in those blue eyes, when he realized what an impact a simple touch could have. a soldier on the field refusing to draw his sword completely. You protect yourself because nobody is going to do it for you.

“I’ll take you with me into the labyrinth,” Alexander explained and surprise washed through Magnus.

“The Labyrinth? The labyrinth of dreams? How-?” He had been banned all those years ago when he’d turned against his own nightmares.

Alexander drew an index finger across the skin of his neck and from under the collar if his tightly buttoned shirt a simplified raven was dragged out. It as one of those moving tattoos that moved so freely across the other’s skin the last time. And it didn’t seem to be common practice as the raven on the pillow at the end of the bed had its head raised watching curiously with gleaming, dark eyes. The raven on Alexander’s neck grew and a line of black ink separated from the protesting bird. It grew bigger, flitted across the whole side of the nightmare’s neck and passed across the skin of his face.   
A sound like breaking glass echoed through the room and with cautious movements Alexander detached the black line from his skin, the moonlight illuminated the new form that now finally became visible as the raven-tattoo escaped back under the collar of the black shirt.

A feather. Long and strong and gleaming with the shine of fresh ink.

Alexander held it delicately between index finger and thumb. He offered it to Magnus who instinctively took a step back. The raven’s eyes were back on him, but his own wouldn’t move away from Alexander’s face. During the struggle with the feather, a part of the white mask had returned again, covering one of his blue eyes. The mask grew further as Magnus watched him, dripping down the nightmare’s face. One half was now covered in the white tone of cold marble, the other alive and vibrating with urgency. The bird-shaped scar beneath the uncovered eye like the memory of a violent lover.

“This is your only chance to get back.” Alexander’s voice was shaking and Magnus understood the shear willpower he needed to keep the mask at bay. He had once again rebelled against his chains, but this time he didn’t plan to be pulled away again.

Magnus’ heartbeat was liquid fire in his chest when he reached out to take the feather. Or at least that’s what he thought he would do. Everything happened much faster.

The moment he touched the feather with his fingertips, the ground of his bedroom turned into glass. It climbed the walls, the ceiling. Glass was followed by ice and when everything around him crumbled to dust, bursting into millions of shards, not one touched his skin, not once was he cut. When they were gone there was nothing around them. The ground was water or blue glass or something else, it was smooth like the ocean on the day the wind died.   
The moon was gone and there was sunlight, but Magnus found he couldn’t move his head to look up.

He was bound by the suddenly apologizing look on Alexander’s face. His pale lips moved and formed the words ‘I’m sorry’. The bird that had sat on the pillow in Magnus’ bedroom was now on the ground right next to the nightmare’s feet, his claws not disturbing the surface in the slightest.

Magnus wanted to ask what the other apologized for, but he found that his voice had been taken from his as well. Fear burned cold in his veins. What had he agreed to? What was happening? This was not the labyrinth he remembered, not the one he had tried to get back into by trying every strategy for falling asleep. Nothing had worked.

But then the smooth surface of the ground was broken, white marble grow from nothing. Stones appeared and moved around, pushed by invisible hands. The stones grew darker the longer they were exposed to the light. New ones appeared all over the place, walls around them were built and Magnus understood.

This was the labyrinth, born anew every night.

A tingling sensation crawled across his skin and his fear was back, but he couldn’t do anything against it. His bones moved on their own accord, his skin was stretched or cramped together, heat encompassed him, his sight got dizzy, his senses somehow sharper. Panic pressed against his lungs. He shrunk, lost the grip on the feather without deciding to let go. The feather was still there, but so far up now. Alexander was tall. The walls of the labyrinth kept building themselves, they were the most imposing thing he’d ever seen, the most scary thing.

When Magnus screamed there was the sound of a frightened cat.

The nightmare kneeled down in fron of him and picked him up.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But this is the only way I can take you inside with me without anybody noticing … but if it helps you, you are a very cute kitten.”

The Labyrinth’s walls closed above them in an elegant bow and in the shadow that now hung over them, Magnus could see amusement gleaming in those haunting blue eyes. He reached out and scratched his claws across Alexander’s cheek.

The nightmare startled, but didn’t let go of Magnus, just took a deep breath and looked at Magnus with pursed lips.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

Magnus very much hoped that even cute kitten’s managed looks that could kill.


	25. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blind!Alec and waiter!Magnus 
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, kudos, comments and subscriptions. <3

“I’ll paint the whole world for you, in whatever color you want. I’ll describe it to you when you can’t see, so my voice will be your eyes.“

-+-

His mother’s reading glasses had been orange. 

Isabelle’s favorite was orange. She had it worn for her first day of kindergarten. 

The lamp over his baby brother’s was painted orange. It played a simple melody, too, and it helped Max fall asleep. 

His father had a little orange cat sitting on his desk. Alec had made it in fifth grade, when they’d been allowed to experiment with clay. Alec still thought it looked ridiculous, the orange stripes looked messy and the eyes were mismatched, but his father kept it nonetheless. Every time Alec came to visit him, his fingers found the smooth surface of the cat. His father left it at the same spot through the years.

Isabelle had a new favorite dress, when she grew out of the one from her kindergarten days. She told him proudly that it was still orange. She took his hands and let his fingertips find the texture of the white roses that where stitched into the orange fabric and scattered across the dress. 

When his mother found an orange shirt in the store, she got it for Alec because she knew he liked the color. 

Max made sure that they got the right orange juice when they went shopping. "You can taste the color,“ he announced when he pressed a glass into Alec’s hands. 

Alec loved oranges, the bitter sweet taste, the feeling of the smooth outside of the peel against his fingertips. 

His mother still had the same reading glasses. 

One evening Robert came home, telling Alec that he’d gotten an orange collar for Garfield, Alec’s guide dog. 

It was Alec’s favorite color and the one thing that was still clear as day no matter how long it had been that his world had become dark. He remembered the other colors, too, but orange was a feeling that didn’t fade. He painted the darkness that was his reality now, orange, imagined the walls of his room with stripes or stars, whatever he felt like when he woke up. 

-+-

"The orange juice is for you?“

Alec had heard the steps before the voice had been there, it was pleasantly warm. He wore a T-shirt that was soft against his skin, well-worn, a bit too big, perfect for Alec. "Yes, thank you.“

The clunking sound of the glass against the table. There was no coaster, but in this little cafe, they didn’t have them. The walk from the door to the counter took Alec seven steps, four more to get to his usual table. The waiter only needed three to get to Alec. He was taller than Alec. Alec had only heard his voice around the cafe for a week now. Isabelle had confirmed that he was new. And cute. Alec felt his face heating up when the waiter’s footsteps didn’t lead him away right after placing Alec’s glass on the table. There were no footsteps. The waiter was still standing next to his table.

"Anything else you would like?“ The voice was calm and completely free of stress and tension despite the buzzing sound of the café around them. Alec turned his head a bit, to make it easier to listen to the waiter, easier to soak up his voice, drowning out the background noise. Isabelle always called it ‘staring with his ears‘.

"Do you still have some of the orange cake? The one with the cream in the middle?“

Ruffling of fabric. The waiter probably turned to look at the counter. Alec expected to hear footsteps now, that he would leave to check with the kitchen maybe.

"No, I’m sorry, it looks like we are out.“

Alec’s fingertips tasted the cold surface of the glass. It was the first time that he had found the courage to go to the café on his own and he felt stupid just sitting there drinking juice. But he wasn’t in the mood for coffee and he didn’t want to leave too soon because he wanted to keep that voice close just a bit longer. Garfield lay next to his chair, his warmth was a constant presence against Alec’s leg. 

"Oh, well-“

"But we have muffins.“ There was a smile and it was warmth against Alec’s skin. It was a certain high note in the words, a tiny drop of excitement that made Alec smile as well. He tried to hide it, biting his lip. It was stupid for a smile to be contagious that he couldn’t even see. Yet it was. This was fun. "Fresh from the oven.“ The upturn at the end, that was a smirk, a try at seduction. Alec’s heart fluttered in his chest. 

"Then I would like one of those,“ he decided, finally allowing his own smile to break free and paint all across his face with an exciting shiver running over his skin. He moved the glass closer to him, his fingers followed the straight line of the glass upwards, danced on the rim and for a moment they hovered in the air before touching the straw. A surface not as hard as the glass, not as cold. 

"I’ll get you one.“ One step, a second one. The cafe grew louder again. The third step sounded, but it was different, with more force than the others, a sudden movement. The next step was closer again. The waiter came back. He stopped next to the table, again not too close to disturb Garfield. A dull sound off something against the table, a hand. A movement, accompanied by an intake of breath, he leaned down and Alec tilted his head so his right ear was turned towards the waiter, where Alec suspected his head to be. 

"Oh, and before I chicken out again, I’d like to tell you something …“ Another intake of breath. He wasn’t close enough yet for Alec to feel the warmth of his body. Fingertips drummed nervously on the tabletop. 

"I think you’re beautiful.“

For Alec’s ears the café suddenly became silent. His face was painted with flames, his heart singing with heat. He didn’t move because he was afraid to wake up. In his mind the room was drenched in orange color, with sunlight kissing the windows and he didn’t care that the weather channel had spoken about a cloudy day. His world was flooded with sunlight. 

"Thank you.“ His words stumbled over every shivering heartbeat vibrating through his whole body. He wanted to say something back. He wanted to let the waiter know that he liked his voice, that it had a tinge of orange to it. But he found that he couldn’t, his world was reeling and spilling over with vibrant colors, that for now there was no place for more words. He would come back again and do it then.

"I’ll get you your muffin now.“ And the three steps back to the counter and beyond had a new rhythm to them, but maybe that was just because Alec’s heartbeat got mixed in with their sound. 

-+-

When he’d woken up in the hospital after the accident, he had cried and Isabelle had been with him there. She had held his hand, had whispered into his ear 'the walls are orange‘. He had yelled at her, had been so angry, but she had just hugged him and when her tears had painted his cheek with her own sorrow, he had understood that he wasn’t alone with his pain.

"For you, they can be orange, Alec,“ she had whispered, words almost drowning in tears. "For you, they can be every color you want.“ Her fingers had gripped his shoulders hard. Her hug was almost too tight to breathe, but it was what had prevented Alec from breaking apart back then.

“No,“ he’d whispered putting his arms around the shaking chest of his sister. "Orange is perfect.“


	26. Fireworks (a sequel to 'Orange')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blind!Alec; Magnus celebrates Silvester with Alec's family. 
> 
> Not edited.
> 
> (Thank you all for your support :D ^-^)

They sing in a chaotic symphony of high notes and fill the air with the smell of gun powder. It’s cold air brimming with excitement, the clinking of glasses and the only night when Alec can hear the time pass. 

It starts around 9 pm when the first, distant rockets go off. A long time passes between them and their siren calls sound through the windows of the kitchen like heavy sighs. 

10 pm is when the first firecrackers dance across the street. Their sound vanishes a lot quicker and there are more, they hurry after each other, not wanting to be left alone. In the kitchen Alec can hear the ‘pop’ of a bottle being opened. His guess is red wine, but he doesn’t know for sure. It’s not important. 

11 pm is when Isabelle gets irritated with the neighbors starting early. The door of the kitchen creeks when she opens it, yelling “GET A DAMN CLOCK! YOU’RE TOO EARLY!” into the night. Cold air brushes Alec’s ankles. He turns his ear towards the door, curious if his sister would march up the metal steps to the terrace to pass judgement on those that start the new year an hour too early. The first trace of burned gun powder reaches Alec’s nose.  
His mother’s steps are right behind his sister’s voice. A hand softly passes through Alec’s hair when the steps reach him. He knows that. She always does that and he likes it. It’s a way of looking at him, that he can see.

11:30 pm is when Max starts counting the minutes loudly and demands his father’s watch because it has numbers that glow in the dark. Isabelle is back from the terrace, this time their mother’s voice is right behind Izzy’s steps.   
“Language, Isabelle, please. We still have to live next to these people the next year.”

11:15 pm was something new though. Max’ voice rang through the kitchen. The dishwasher closed and his father sighed. “15 MINUTES! LET’S BLOW THE BACKYARD UP!”  
“MAX!” Robert’s voice was funny when he was shocked because it was usually so dark and a simple river of ultramarine, but when something startled him there was yellow splattered all over the blue and it always made Alec laugh. Hurried footsteps to the front door. The cold air began creeping into the room, but Alec was still warm and glowing from dinner. 

“You want to get a jacket and go up to the terrace?” The voice was soft and green right next to his ear. It belonged to the hand gently squeezing his upper arm. Alec could taste his heartbeat right on his tongue, so he only nodded because his words drowned in the silence of the now almost empty kitchen. 

Magnus got up from the place right next to him. Three steps to get around the table, two more to walk into the next room, three smaller ones. Looking for his jacket? A soft “Ah, there.” Rustling of fabric. Four steps back. Magnus’ shoes sounded different on the tiled floor of the kitchen then the ones of his family. 

Alec always wore the same jacket on this night. It was one of his fathers’ work jackets, it was warm and too big and Isabelle had told him it was neon colored; orange with yellow stripes. ‘So, we will never loose you in the smoke we create on the terrace.’ 

“Looking good, my friend,” Magnus announced when he helped Alec into the jacket and eventually zipped it up in the front. Alec liked the sound of the zipper because it went so easily. It was one steady sound, a system working without flaws. 

“You know that I can put on a jacket by myself, right?” 

Alec couldn’t help but chuckle when Magnus pulled a scarf around his neck neck and tucked it carefully into the collar of the jacket. His fingers only ghosted over the skin of Alec’s cheeks for mere seconds, but it was enough to have a new wave of heat and red bubbling up in his chest. 

“Sure I know, but I promised to take care of you tonight and that’s what I will do.” Magnus put extra emphasis on each word in that kind of sing song-way and Alec always felt like he was wrapping a bow around the words. It made him grin, because he couldn’t help but imagine Magnus with a big golden bow around his head. “And if it makes you smile like that, I will take care of you for the rest of my life.”

His voice was closer now, warm and intimate. The gold molted, brimming with heat that washed over Alec’s face sinking into his skin. There was the picture of a chandelier at the back of his mind and Alec didn’t know why. He carefully raised one hand in front of his chest, spreading the fingers out towards Magnus and he took it, like he had done so many times already. And still not often enough. 

Together they took the metal stairs up to the terrace. 

Isabelle wasn’t cursing anymore and the night was alive with the high whistling of early fireworks. Garfield was probably watching the spectacle through the window in Alec’s room or still sleeping on his bed. It was the only night he always had off.

Maryse handed them champagne glasses with orange juice. They never drank alcohol on Silvester, but they filled high quality orange juice into fancy glasses because it was an important night. Alec could feel the thin glass against his fingertips, the texture of the stem that always had some kind of different pattern, running the fingertips of his other hand along the sharp edge on the top. Never sharp enough to cut. 

With Magnus by his side they moved away from where Isabelle and Max had put up the bottles with the rockets all ready to be fired.   
“Two rows with green bottles,” Magnus described while cautiously pulling Alec’s back to his chest. “Some are still empty. They point towards the neighbor’s house, but it looks like they will fly in a high enough curve to pass over the roof. Three rockets are in the big flower pots on the right side of the terrace and your brother seems to be having a discussion with your father about who will have the lighter.”

Alec felt a broad grin on his face. “That’s the same every year.” Some things didn’t change. Some things would stay the same, even in the new year. And there was nothing bad about it. 

Alec leaned back against Magnus, paying close attention to not the delicate glass in his hand, but knowing his mother she wouldn’t have put too much orange juice into them.   
In the new year Alec would still be blind, but no matter how many people made confused sounds when he told them about it, his world would never be black. He wouldn’t be lonely because his heartbeat would keep whispering in his ear, because the voices of his family would keep touching his skin, because life was more than seeing and because ‘seeing’ was more than opening your eyes.

The seconds before midnight were Magnus’ voice in his ear, his warmth against Alec’s back, his breath on Alec’s cheek as he counted, his lips swallowing one second after the other. “Ten, nine, eight, seven …”  
Usually there would be his mother’s voice next to him, and maybe it would be the first new thing of the new year.

12 pm was the excited “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” of his sister, the “BURN!” of his brother, the disbelieving laughter of his father when the first rocket sang her high-pitched song without it finding a sudden end by hitting the neighbors rooftop.   
12 pm was the kiss on the forehead by his mother and the soft “Happy new year, sweetheart. Stay awesome.”

12:05 pm was the crushing hug of his sister. The taste of orange juice on his tongue, the hurried steps of his brother, his excited voice carrying across the terrace “This one’s for you, Alec!” and then the myriad of little explosion, going off fast after another, directly followed by high pitched notes, another round of explosions. Magnus’ voice was back at his ear describing what colors illuminated the night and how they reflected on Max’ glasses, how the tense line of Robert’s shoulders slowly relaxed after no spark had flown to far.

“THANK YOU!”, Alec yelled back at Max.   
“He made a salute,” Magnus chuckled so very close to him. 

12:10 pm was the gentle press of lips against the skin below Alec’s ear. It was a hug that was so very different from everything else. It was the closest Magnus had ever gotten to nervousness. 

“Happy new year, Alexander.”

The next rocket went off, but Alec’s mind was ringing with those four words, not the words really, with the sound of them, the voice that painted them featherlight all over his heart. A giddy smile burned on his lips in all the right ways. 

“Happy new year, Magnus.”

This was a good start.


	27. Unintended // Murderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by 'Unintended' by Muse, mixed with the prompt 'Muderer' and turned into a sort of Beauty and the Beast AU  
> hitman!Alec meets hell-prince!Magnus 
> 
> Enjoy!

„They call you ‚the Beast‘.“  
„I know. Terribly uncreative nickname, right?“

-+-

At a very young age, Alec had decided that ice cream was his comfort food. It helped him to calm down, it tasted good, the sugar was important for a good mood and every company tried exciting new flavors each summer. His sister called it an addiction. His father thought it was better than if he’d start smoking. His step-brother lectured him about how unhealthy it was, how an addiction with veggie shakes would be better for his immune system. His mother lectured him how he always had to pay attention to not leave the waste behind when he was on a job. 

Alec didn’t like veggie shakes and would never litter despite how much waste could be found on the rooftops of some skyscrapers. But still, ice cream wrappers were definitely easier to not leave behind than smoked cigarettes. 

He loved the sound of frozen chocolate breaking with that sort of warm sound between his teeth. He enjoyed the way the first taste of vanilla melted on his tongue as he stared at the windows of the highest apartment. The lights were on, making the darkness of the spring night around Alec even more apparent. Sort of. Maybe it was just romantic thinking. Or Alec was simply kneeling to low to on the ground to be touched by the streetlights from so far below him on the streets. The pale moonlight passed over him, only leaving featherlight kisses on the tips of his hair.

The target this time was a rich business man who lived on his own, no family, no friends, no lovers, a lot of enemies. Apparently the guy had pissed off some important people by refusing to sell his company to the bigger player on the market. But Alec also knew that he wasn’t the first to get hired on this one. Lovelace had gone missing after this job. Police had found the dead body two days later in a ditch somewhere next to a road leading out of the city, torn apart. The newspapers had written something about a wild animal, but that was what they always wrote when things were too ugly to spell them out.   
His tongue caught a piece of chocolate before it could fall to the ground, his eyes trained on the small figure moving across the living room. The whole wall facing towards the rooftop Alec had taken position on was made of glass, no curtains either, the rooms brightly lit. The guy standing there like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Magnus Bane, Alec thought. The people in the industry called him ‚The Beast‘ because he was ruthless when it came to negotiations with other companies. He’d brought the company which he’d inherited from his father to greatness with a determination and almost underhanded methods that still never became illegal, but then, almost a year ago he had completely stopped branching out. That gave the opportunity to Tristar Enterprises to surpass him. They had tried to buy him off ever since. And after half a year of fruitless negotiations, they started hiring hitmen to get him out of the picture.   
Alec’s mother had pursed her lips over this assignment. Isabelle had been against Alec taking it. His father had clenched his jaw and told him to be even more careful than usually. Jace had spit out his veggie shake. 

In a way, Alec probably had an unhealthy attraction to challenging jobs. Way unhealthier definitely than his addiction to ice cream. He was lucky to have a metabolism that didn’t let him down when it came to staying in shape. With that thought he finished the popsicle, keeping the wooden stick that was left over between his teeth. He didn’t know why it helped his concentration, but it did. 

One deep breath. An almost unreal calmness settled over his body as he looked through the telescopic sight of his weapon and waited for the target to get into position. There was almost no wind going and the sounds from the street below where non-existent to Alec’s ears at this moment. 

One step, two steps. Almost there. 

Then Magnus was right in the middle of the cross, looking down at his phone, frowning at something. 

Alec didn’t care. He pulled the trigger. 

The bullet broke the glass of the floor-length windows and hit Magnus’ temple spot on. It brought him stumbling down, but … didn’t kill him?

With growing fascination Alec watched him get back up again, looking around and after finding the hole in the window, finding the rooftop Alec had taken position on as well. Now the frowning turned into a glare. There wasn’t even a scratch on his temple. Alec could feel his adrenaline starting to work beneath the calm control that held his nerves on every job, in life in general by now as well. (It drove Isabelle nuts more often than not.) But now it was the first time that Alec could practically hear his brain screaming at him to get the fuck out of here, but he couldn’t move. His gaze was glued to the telescope, watching Magnus as he stepped closer to the window, looking through the hole in the window Alec’s bullet had torn. Then he tilted his head a bit, raised his right hand - and flipped Alec off.

"Okay,“ the sniper muttered, "that is new.“ 

Now he had the possibility to fire a second bullet, but his gut told him that that would not work out better than the first one. His teeth left marks in the wood of his popsicle stick as he clenched his jaw. The cold began at his fingertips and toes. The nervousness crawled down from his head to the back of his neck to bite his skin viciously there. His brain was still scrambling to understand what exactly was happening here. 

Magnus was still looking at him. Slowly Alec moved backwards without making a sound. The target hadn’t seen his face, right? That wasn’t possible.   
HE JUST TOOK A BULLET TO THE HEAD AND DIDN’T EVEN KEEP A SCRATCH! DON’T YOU THINK THE SCOPE OF WHAT’S POSSIBLE AND WHAT NOT IS SLIGHTLY REDEFINED BY THAT?!, his inner voice was screeching. It sounded far away. His inner voice got farther away from him the louder it screamed. 

He got on his knees and was about to take his weapon from the low balustrade of the rooftop when there was suddenly a pair of shoes right in front him, there were feet in those shoes and attached to them was a complete person. This was the moment Alec’s reflexes kicked in and the adrenaline finally broke through. His hand was on his second gun that he always carried beneath his jacket, secure and calm, pointed at the forehead of the person that had appeared out of nowhere on the rooftop. 

Magnus Bane. 

He was a shadow against the dark sky. His inhumanly bright. His face was a mask etched into ice, every clear line cutting into Alec’s lungs. There was nothing special about his attire, a button down shirt, a waistcoat, pants that could have been jeans; the darkness took those details from Alec’s mind. Fear pierced his skin with a million needles, each and every one screaming ‚this is impossible‘, drawing the words in a bloody crescendo across his nerves.   
But he didn’t listen. He felt it. He knew what it meant, but it never reached his head

"Do it.“ Magnus was bored. That was the first thing Alec registered. He held a power over Alec that the sniper didn’t quite understand yet, but it was there. "Pull the trigger.“ 

At the same time his boredom seeped into Alec’s bones, held his heartbeat in an iron fist. He tasted stale wood on his tongue. The sweetness of the ice cream was almost completely gone. Alec didn’t like that. A job wasn’t supposed to take long enough for that to happen. 

He pulled the trigger. The silencer ate the sound of the shot. The bullet scraped a hole into the fabric of the button down shirt and the waistcoat, but barely touched the skin. Magnus stumbled on the balustrade, his annoyed gaze falling to the place where the bullet should have pierced his heart and this moment Alec used to rush forward to push Magnus over the edge. What he didn’t expect was for this target to have even faster reflexes, securing his stance on the balustrade by grabbing Alec’s collar, pulling him close and pushing the other hand against Alec’s chest. He could see that the place where his bullet had hit Magnus’ skin there would be a bruise in the morning, nothing more. 

Being so close, Alec could see the slitted pupils of the other’s eyes. Being held so close, he could feel not fingertips, but sharp claws pushing through the fabric of his own sweater. His gun was pushed against base of Magnus’ neck. Alec hadn’t been fast enough to bring it down against his heart again.

"What? No hectic screaming, no disbelieving stuttering?“ A slow, malicious smile curled around the corners of his mouth. 

"Disbelieve slows you down and makes you blind, so I decided against adapting that habit.“

-+-

This human was interesting, Magnus thought. Pretty, too. Nice to look at. Pleasant to listen to. 

He could tear him apart right here and now. He could toss him down at the street, scare some innocent pedestrians. But he didn’t, hadn’t yet. The night was still young. 

"Then what happens next?“

"You kill me like the ones before me?“ It was a calm suggestion. No, maybe not even a suggestion. It was a statement with the question mark at the end for no other reason than to be polite. 

"I could.“  
"I know.“  
"Do you want me me to?“  
"Does that matter?“   
Again, the question mark wasn’t real, but then again Magnus’ question also hadn’t been an honest one. Magnus felt how the tension left the clawed hand pressed against the other man’s chest. He didn’t want to kill this one. He wanted to keep talking to him. 

His mother had been the lost person he’d enjoyed talking to. Then she had been killed by an enemy company who was pissed that Magnus had outwited them and Magnus had lost the last voice in his life that wasn’t grating on his ears. Until tonight. 

"Why aren’t you scared?“ His legs began to cramp from the odd posture on the balustrade. His other hand began to feel the fabric of the collar of the sweater more prominent beneath his fingers. He could turn them into claws as well, but he didn’t. Maybe tonight he wouldn’t have to wash blood off his skin. 

"Long story. Why are you immune to bullets?“ Blue eyes were calm as water, deep as the open sea, such a golden opportunity for all those cheesy metaphors. Magnus felt something pulsing deep in his chest, that had been buried under tons of dusty webs and an inhuman weight of anger. But he had carried them through the past year because he wasn’t human, yet he suffered loss like them or even more. The death of his mother had broken him, burned him alive and left him shattered on the ground. But now, just now … 

The pulsing in his chest grew stronger as the realization settled in about what it was. Enjoyment of another person’s company.   
The first piece to be back in place. 

"Long story,“ Magnus whispered, greedily soaking up every little movement on the sniper’s face. The wind around them picked up and reminded Magnus of where they were. 

"I’m a good listener.“

-+-

You could be my unintended   
Choice to live my life extended   
You could be the one I'll always love 

You could be the one who listens   
to my deepest inquisitions   
You could be the one I'll always love 

I'll be there as soon as I can   
But I'm busy mending broken   
Pieces of the life I had before 

-+-

"Would you be interested to work for me?"


	28. Kiss a Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus makes a video, Alec sells apples and I fail at poetry. :D

Magnus loved himself.  
He loved his life.   
He loved being bisexual.   
He was proud of himself.   
He loved love.  
Romantic or platonic.  
Love should make people smile, to give them a light in dark times.   
It shouldn’t scare them and Magnus shouldn’t be seen as brave for speaking his mind.  
It should be normal.   
And in a way, it shouldn’t even be necessary. 

Magnus decided to make a video.   
A school project.  
He would offer love for a whole day.  
He put up a sign up, writing on it „Kiss a stranger.“  
He would collect pictures of random people on the street.  
He would offer to kiss them while Catarina would make the picture.  
He would make the picture himself if there was a couple passing by and agreeing to participate.  
A kiss on the cheek.  
A kiss on the lips.  
A kiss on the temple.   
Just a hug.

He met many strangers that day.   
They were young.  
They were old.  
In the middle somewhere.  
They were female.  
They were male.   
Or didn’t identify with either.  
They were laughing that day.  
Some of them even donated a little bit of money for a charity fighting the fights of those beaten into silence. With words, with fists, with hate.

There was one stranger though.  
He became sort of an acquaintance for Magnus over the day.   
He sold salad and apples on the other side of the street.   
He watched Magnus in between customers.   
He would smile and Magnus would smile back.  
Magnus would wave and the stranger would wave back.   
Magnus asked for his name and the stranger answered.

„It’s Alec.“  
„I’m Magnus.“

Magnus got a bag of free apples that day.   
He made a picture that day that he decided not to add to the video.  
He witnessed a laugh that made everything feel a dozen times more right.  
He got a number that day which he knew by heart two days later.  
He had to pull two all-nighters to finish editing the video on time.   
But it was okay.  
It was worth it.

There were two arms resting around his waist.   
There was warmth against his back.  
There was the weight of a sleepy head on his shoulder.   
There was warm breath against his neck.   
There was a heartbeat so close to his own.  
There was a new stranger in his life who was soon no stranger anymore.

The video showed all the pictures Magnus had taken that day.  
Except for one.  
The video ended with seven words.   
„This is what we are fighting for.“

There were eight more whispered against Magnus’ neck.  
„It’s nothing we should have to fight for.“   
„I know, Alec.“  
He knew.  
And he never forgot.

\- No straight people were harmed during the making of this video. -


	29. Claustrophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winged!Alec meets caretaker!Magnus and something bigger is set in motion on a beach.

Claustrophobia 

"Room 23 is empty!"

Magnus almost fell into the meeting room where the rest of the staff of that night was having a quick dinner before making the final rounds. He was breathing heavily, his heart still running with adrenaline. It had been a while since the last time he'd taken stairs this fast. Yet nobody jumped from their chair, nobody seemed to be inclined to announce an emergency. There were only three pairs of eyebrows raised at him, combined with looks that spoke of so much 'Who cares?' it made Magnus' skin crawl.

"At this time it's always empty." Somebody decided to explain with a shrug. It was a woman, probably older than she looked, with white hair and blue highlights. "He'll be back when we lock up."

The guy next to her gave Magnus a patronizing smile and then went back to his sandwich that Magnus hoped he would choke on. This was so obviously one of those situation that only happened to the newbies and Magnus hated that position. He wasn't even a real newby, just around here he was new. He took a deep breath and tried fighting down his growing annoyance.

"Well then, do you know where he is? Or is this one of those easy-going Institutes that everybody blames for bad reviews?", he muttered and seriously? He didn't even expect an answer and was about to turn around to look for some chocolate, maybe gummy bears to drown out the screaming of his nerves.

"He's usually at the beach," came the soft reply from Blue Highlights, but her eyes were already back on her book. Magnus nodded in that way that showed he had understood, but nobody cared, so he rolled his eyes and decided to take a look at the beach. It was cold outside, a harsh wind was blowing and the crashing of the waves could be heard in the distance. In the distance the among black water and a dark sky a lighthouse could be seen, then the light was gone, then it came back and it was gone again. It was a cruel parallel to the lazy yet precise work routine at the Institute. This one was much smaller than the one Magnus had worked at before. He sighed and for a moment leaned his head back to gaze at the sky where nothing could be seen because the world was a cruel place with too many clouds.

"God, I'm so pathetic," Magnus muttered. "Get it together, Bane." He shook himself out of this melancholic trance and took the steps down from the Institute's back entrance down to the beach. The sand was slippery underneath his shoes, the grains of sand too fine. It was like walking on water, or like Magnus always imagined how it was like to walk on water. He never really believed it was that easy if it were possible to begin with.

He had a cramp in his thighs and sand in his shoes when he reached the last dune that lead towards the beach. It was a completely even ground, covered in wet sand, shells and seaweed with the waves lazily rolling over it, caressing the ground like a lover's cheek. The air smelt like salt, the open sea was painted with faint moonlight.

It was easy to find Alexander down there. His silhouette was dark and strong against the grey sand around him as he sat on the beach, just shy out of reaching distance from the waves, his head was bowed, his fingers dancing across shells that lay in front of him. Magnus sighed and for a moment, he let himself see Alec as just another guy, just for a second.

Then he slid down the last dune with as much dignity as is possible. He managed it without falling onto his ass. Magnus counted that as a success. As he got closer to Alec, the silhouette behind Alec's back grew into more than a shadow. It came alive, turned into feathers and strength. His wings lifted themselves off the ground as Alec becomes aware of Magnus presence, turning his head to look up at him.

"Something wrong?" His voice was soft and calm, his wings shivered a bit, feathers were moved by the cold wind from the sea, the breath of eternity.

"No." Magnus eyes followed the movement of black wings as they fold themselves around Alec like a blanket, not too tight, just enough to build a wall between them. "I was just wondering what you were doing out here. Aren't you cold?"

Something that could have been amusement in a different light, passed through Alec's eyes. He dipped his head, so that the lower half of his face was covered by the top of his right wing.

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Passing time?"

"You know that when you leave your wings on the sand like that, it's not good for the feathers." Magnus pointed at the row of long, elegant feathers that made up the tips of the wings. They brushed against the sand being held like this and when he took a closer look to the place Alec had placed them behind himself before, Magnus noticed that he must have rubbed them into the sand. Like a snow-angel, but with more anger in the movements and a less cheerful trace to be left behind.

"I know," Alec muttered, his voice growing darker. "But they are my wings, not yours."

"Yes, but then you'll have even more trouble tomorrow to make them look good again for tomorrow."

Alec's wings bristled. They moved, so the tips were pointed outward at Magnus, the long feathers became spears, a protective ring of distance around Alec. "What if I don't want them to look good?"

At this moment Magnus understood two things. One, he made a mistake to talk about the next day and two, why Alec was still at the Institute. If his file was correct, he was already eighteen, heading towards his nineteenth birthday this year. Usually he would have been adopted by now, though ‚bought' was probably the more appropriate term.

The government ran the Institutes as orphanages, but the people there had families and sometimes whole families were kept there. On every Saturday, possible buyers came to look at those of age to look for one of the Winged to adopt them. Magnus had always believed in this system, that it would bring them a better future than ending up on the street. Recently he'd learned about the other truths that existed in the world. It had lead to the incident that got him send here and he had thought he'd just stay under the radar again, just go with it, he wouldn't get attached again he'd decided.

Now he looked down at Alexander with the sound of the waves kissing his skin and the cold wind already laughing at him.

"You don't want to get adopted?" The word cut bloody lines into his tongue, but the words were hollow enough for it not to really hurt anyway. Alec got up from the ground, leaving the randomly arranged, little shells behind the sand. His wings flapped a few times, getting rid of some of the sand while Alec's hands patted the sand from his pants. He was wearing one of those sweaters that had an appropriate cut out on the back to make room for the wings. Magnus still wasn't convinced that he wasn't cold.

"I want to live." Alec's eyes were daggers in the dark. His wings spread out around him, creating a dark halo that spoke of fear and anger. They were big, but Magnus knew that they weren't big enough to actually allow Alec to fly. Specific breeding over the centuries had chained the Winged to the earth and the stories about people that could fly turned into legends drenched in tears and oblivion. "But the space that people gave us in this world isn't even big enough to breathe. Walls are closing in on us that you can't even see because you have no wings."

Magnus knew that it was a challenge of building the Institutes to put in higher ceilings over wide hallways, to pretty much count the space of two humans for one of the Winged and yet, as he stared at Alec's wings that might have a sense of their own personality could not be compared to just another person standing there. But space like that wasn't the real problem here. Alec couldn't fold his wings in, couldn't make them disappear, which made him bent to be seen as an exotic pet, leaving the wings out like that invited others' gazes.

'Why shouldn't I look when they leave them out like that? There's no harm done', Magnus could here the people ask. 'They ask to be looked at.'

No, they don't, he thought as his eyes found the tense lines of Alec's shoulders, the frozen storm in his eyes. They ask to be heard.

"Did you know that they trimmed the wings of my mother? Because it's not considered attractive for a woman to have big wings?"

"I know." He didn't know Alec's mother, but he knew about that practice. Shorter wings were ‚cute' and scars got covered up with gold and jewels. Magnus felt a sick feeling rising in his stomach with a bitter taste on his tongue. No, there was no going back once you peeked behind the curtain.

"My mother had beautiful wings," Alec whispered and it seemed like he wanted to say more, but his voice got lost among memories and uncried tears.

"I'm sure they are still beautiful," Magnus found himself saying. Alec's wings lowered themselves a bit, taking a bit of danger out of the shadow they created under the moonlight, but they didn't hang low enough yet to touch the ground again.

"They definitely are. But they aren't hers anymore."

Had they been in a movie, there would have been a sad melody in the back, maybe a piano playing, maybe the soft voice of a singer, many not, maybe another instrument. But here, there was no sound. The waves held their breath, the wind held his tongue this time and for the blink of an eye Magnus could see the walls closing in around Alec, could feel how even on this beach, he felt caged in and bound by chains.

"Good night." Alec walked past Magnus, taking the path across the dunes with his wings helping his balance. Magnus' own stumbling was nothing compared to Alec's grace. The black feathers almost disappeared with the growing distance between them, they melted into the darkness of the night around them. They weren't shiny, they were ruffled from the sand and still a thing of beauty.

'You just have to look.' No! Magnus shook his head and let his gaze drop to the ground. But he couldn't help but wonder, why Alec was still here then. He waned to get out, he was able to get out. He was eighteen. Magnus looked back at the shells and found that they made ups name or half of it where he first thought it was just a random pattern.

Izzy.

Right, Alec had a sister, the girl in room 24. She was still only seventeen. Too young still to be bought. But the day would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, as a plot-tidbit:
> 
> There are rumors of people drawing real things into paintings (see Jocelyn and Clary's ability from the books) and Magnus thinks that maybe there's a chance of them knowing a way to paint the wings into skin like a tattoo, so winged people could hide them and grow out of their status as exotic pets.   
> So, Magnus and Alec decide to break out with Izzy one night and go on one hell of a road trip to that painting folk. (I imagine them living in the desert in some way, but I just have a soft spot for that sort of thing in stories, but they definitely don't live in big cities or anywhere close to that.)


	30. Nocturne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pianist!Magnus and violinist!Alec
> 
> Warning: mentions of death, but nothing graphic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support to everybody :)

“Have you heard what they say about the old house in the fields?”  
“Yes, people say it’s haunted.”  
“Really?”  
“Very much. People from the nearby village swear they’ve heard a violin play in the ruins of the garden or the somewhere inside. A soft sound from within.”  
“Then somebody has to live there?”  
“But there’s never a light in the windows and nobody ever saw somebody leave or enter the house.”  
“Maybe it’s just the wind after all.”

-+-

A young family bought the house and renovated it. They had a son and the father played the piano every evening. After a few years his wife learned how to play the violin and suddenly it wasn’t odd to hear the music from the house in the fields. Suddenly there was light in the windows and a figure could be seen playing the violin on the first floor. The wife, they all knew. They spoke about her, about her playing with her husband or playing alone. They listened to her when she played on the market square in the nearby village.   
Nobody spoke anymore about the wind in the fields. 

-+-

Magnus loved the attic. It was dusty and mysterious and exactly the right place for childish dreams. He loved the old, wooden latter leading up the the trap door. He loved the feeling of the heavy metal ring attached to it. This time the door was open already, his mother had been faster and was already sitting in front of one of the small windows that opened up towards the sky. She had blankets arranged around her legs, covered her shoulders and there was still some space left right beside her for Magnus. 

“Mum,” he called out happily when his eyes found her. “Mum, I found the cookies.” Proud he lifted one hand showing her the treasure he’d found and she smiled bright like the stars. 

“Great, sweety.” She welcomed him into her arms when he reached her, hugged him tight and held him close. There was a strong heartbeat in her chest and it was the music Magnus loved the most. His whole world was filled with music. There was his father’s piano play, there was his mother’s violin, a combination of both when it was a good day. There was the heartbeat of his mother, the laughter of his father, both louder than usual when it was a warm day. 

“Come here, sit down with me,” his mother told him and arranged the blankets around Magnus’ shoulders as well. They put the cookies down on the floor in front of their bent knees. 

They watched the stars each night for the time when his father was fighting a war he hadn’t started somewhere on the border and on every shooting star they’d catch, they’d wish for him to return home safely. „Do you think, dad would be able to hear you if you’d play a melody for him?“ Magnus asked as he took one of the cookies, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. His mother looked down at him, first surprised, then with a warm smile. She raised her hands and brushed Magnus’ rebellious black hair out of his forehead. 

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t think he would hear me.” Magnus nodded slowly and looked out of the window. 

“But if you were a zodiac sign in the sky, he would be able to see you play.” It made his mother laugh softly and he was happy about it. 

“Yes,” she chuckled. “Yes, then he’d be able to see me.” She took a cookie herself and gazed out of the window. Magnus moved in close to her side and her arm moved around his shoulders, holding him close once again. She was warm, yet her heartbeat played a nervous melody. It was fear and Magnus understood because he heard the same tones when listening deep inside himself. His heart was not much different and he wished the war to end with everything he had. 

“Maybe we could ask the ghost that taught you how to play the violin, you know? Maybe he could deliver a message or play for dad?”

His mother titled her head contemplatively. “Maybe.”

She had told Magnus the story a hundred times, how she found an old violin in the attic, dusty and forgotten, but not broken; that she’d picked it and tried to tune it. How there appeared a ghost, a young man on the windowsill and offered her to teach her how to play. She’d screamed, of course, and had fled the attic, too scared to go back for the next couple of weeks. But eventually she had done so and taken the offer. That was the time when she started playing the violin, accompanying her husband on the piano. The only condition the ghost had given her, she’d told Magnus, was that she’d never play to earn money for herself. 

“I can ask him, when I see him the next time.”

-+-

Magnus’ father didn’t return. Eventually the war reached the house in the fields, where Magnus had started learning how to play the piano and where the play of his mother’s violin had become slower and quieter with time passing by. Her smile became tired, but her eyes kept shining bright whenever she played, whenever she listened to Magnus playing his father’s instrument. 

The day came when Magnus lost his mother to foreign soldiers and her funeral was the last time he heard a violin play. 

He couldn’t stand it anymore. The sound that had been his mother’s heartbeat was too heavy on his shoulders, too cruel to his ears. He should have been home when they’d taken his mother’s heart apart, he should have been there. He shouldn’t have come home too late, should have rushed on his way back, should have rushed back right away when he’d seen the soldiers in the nearby village. Of course they would see the house in the field, would wonder what was there to find. 

But hadn’t the ghost been home? The one in the attic. The one that had taught his mother how to play? Why hadn’t he done anything? 

And Magnus stopped believing, wanted to. He threw the violin of his mother against the wall, blind with tears and furious with sorrow. It was an empty satisfaction to see the wood splinter and the strings tear. But when he got up the next morning, the violin was whole again, maybe snatched in some places, but not broken anymore and Magnus would fall to his knees and cry over the injustice in the world. 

He didn’t give up the piano. It was the one thing he’d really learned and what he was good at. He left the house in the fields and the village nearby. He moved to the city and played the piano for reach people to pay his bills. He buried himself in his work until it was everything around him. He isolated himself because he didn’t want to be asked why he didn’t want a violinist to accompany him. 

-+-

"Just leave me alone with that horrendous sound,” he yelled at the young woman that asked him one evening and slammed his door shut. Throwing his jacket on the bed, he moved to sit on the bench of the piano, that took up most of the space in his new apartment. It was late, but not yet nightfall. He was hungry, but not in the mood to eat, so he placed his fingers gently on the keyboard, moving them lazily, filling the emptiness of his life with a slow, soft melody. Maybe a lullaby, maybe something else. It was a melody that had haunted his nights because he didn’t know where it came from inside of his head, it had been just there one day. He couldn’t find a name for it like he did for every other piece he’d written and sold so far. It felt incomplete as well and Magnus found it tragically ironic. 

He played it again and again, just a few notes, nothing much, nothing long, a few accords that touched his skin. But this time when he closed his eyes and just listened, he could feel somebody else with him in the room, another presence. A cold breeze, a warm breath. 

When Magnus opened his eyes again, he was there, barefoot on top of the piano, crouching as if to get closer to the keys, to the sound, the melody and Magnus’ playing fingers. He had his eyes closed as well, wild black hair like Magnus had had as a child, pale skin like Magnus’ skin had never been, and a violin cradled to his chest. The instrument was dusty and old, a few scratches here and there, nothing much to look at. 

Magnus’ fingers stilled and the ghost opened his eyes. If he was really a ghost, nobody knew, but it was the one who taught Magnus’ mother to play the violin, Magnus was sure of that. He wanted to yell and scream. He was supposed to scared. He was tired and empty. 

He had blue eyes, dark and not yet dark enough to be confused as black, like the twilight sky outside. When the silence in the room grew too strong, he stood up, his weight barely there on top of the piano and Magnus wondered if he’d be able to touch him if he tried or if his hand would pass right through the other. The ghost lifted the violin to his shoulder, touched it with is chin, raised the other hand with the bow in a way that Magnus had seen his mother do so many times. 

The first notes where tentative, careful and almost shy. It was a sound that made Magnus heart constrict and his throat run dry. It was difficult to swallow because tears threatened to drown his mind. It was the first song his mother had ever managed to play. She’d been so happy, glowing like the sun, laughing and running to play for his father. And his father had played alongside of her, carefully and slow, to not throw her out of the easy rhythm of the melody. 

And Magnus’ fingers found the keys again as his eyes remained on the ghost that looked down at him with an expression of deep sorrow and endless regret. He’d loved Magnus’ mother like Magnus had done himself, he realized. He’d taught her how to play because she had that light inside of her, because her fingers had been made to hold the delicate neck of the instrument, her heartbeat perfect to softly kiss the strings when she played. 

They played together. They played until Magnus felt the tears that had vibrated in his chest for too long, finally come free, and he cried helplessly until the sound of the violin was everything left to his ears. He cried for the loss of his father, the death of his mother, the beauty of their music. He played those few accords that became whole suddenly in the company of a violin, he played them over and over again until his fingers ached, but heart finally breathed again. And with the the of nightfall, when the last light fled out of the city, he looked back up again at the ghost that held the violin like a dear friend and who smiled down at Magnus and whose cheeks where wet like Magnus’. 

But with the arrival of night he began to disappear, consumed by the growing darkness, though with a warm promise of return and a smile that was like dawn.

-+-

“Nocturne? That’s the name?”  
“Yes.”  
“But isn’t that a completely different kind of music piece? And this one is written for a violin as well …”  
“I don’t care. It feels right.”


	31. Sequel to 'Cherry Blossom': Magnolia

“You’re leaving?“

Magnus nodded and his heart ached at the sight of pain flashing across Alec’s face before his guard was back up. It was the look Alec used when meeting strangers or people he didn’t like. He’d used it in the beginning, when he and Magnus hadn’t been friends yet. 

“Yes,“ Magnus whispered, his gaze dropping to Alec’s hands. He cautiously reached for them and let out a sigh of relief when Alec didn’t pull them back. 

“You’re leaving for good.“ Alec’s voice was soft and sad, his fingers curling carefully around Magnus’, not holding him tight, but not letting him go either. Magnus’ thumbs drew lazy circles across the back of Alec’s hands and he wanted to stay like nothing else. 

“Yeah, my mother got a job in at a big company. It’s not temporary.“ He couldn’t look up. Holding everything in was becoming physically painful. 

Magnus’ criminal record had cleared up over the past few years. He hadn’t gotten into trouble as often as before. He’d made a friend and being friends with the son of a police officer probably helped a lot with that. He’d kissed that friend on the cheek on New Year’s. It had taken two months to eventually work up the courage to ask Alec out. He had planed to do it today, when they met for a picnic at the park, as friends, because they both like watching the dogs play and the weather was great. They could talk about books, about teachers, about other things.

Magnus hadn’t asked Alec out. His mother had told him this morning that she’d been offered a job in Europe, at a big company, paying her more, giving her the chance of a promotion. It hadn’t been fair to start something, Magnus knew he couldn’t take very far. It would have been selfish, though now that he was holding Alec’s hands like he’d done so many times, he’d never wanted to be selfish so much like he did now. 

“We can still stay in touch,“ he tried to offer, giving his voice a lighter tone and feeling his heart swell again at the sight of a sort of and almost there smile on Alec’s lips. “I mean, it’s not like you’re going to get rid of my selfies with the most random snapchat filters, just because I’m leaving the country.“ This was good, this made Alec smile and chuckle, it distracted Magnus himself from how much he wanted to lean forward. 

“There goes my hope for escaping that hell,“ Alec sighed dramatically and it was all good between them again. This was common ground. 

“Oh, that reminds me, I got you a present.“

“A - what? Magnus, did you forget again that my birthday isn’t until next month?“

Magnus let go of Alec’s hands and missed them already, but he fought that feeling down. This was not the right time for it. He would have enough time for self-pity when he was in Europe, in some country whose name he didn’t want to remember right now because it made nightmares real, which he’d never expected to fear. He rummaged inside his bag while rolling his eyes at Alec. 

“I didn’t forget that. My memory is maybe not the best, but it’s also not that bad yet, okay?“ 

Alec chuckled and leaned back on his hands watching Magnus with an amused expression, patiently waiting and not making a stupid comment about Magnus’ non-existent sense of order when it came to his stuff. He had a sign on the door to his room at home, which said ‘Controlled chaos is the way to happiness‘ and he lived by that, especially when it came to cleaning up said room. 

“Here“, he exclaimed and forward a set of temporary tattoos. They were all different types of flowers in full bloom. “I saw it attached to one of my mother’s gardening magazines and had to think of you.“ Magnus pointed at the flower in the middle. “I know, you prefer cherry blossoms, but I like Magnolias, so I thought maybe you’d enjoy them if it’s only temporary.“ 

Alec took the sheet with the tattoos from Magnus and looked at them. “Yeah, you mentioned that you like them once,“ he whispered absent-mindedly. “But now they are going to remind me of you leaving the country.“ Alec’s gaze found Magnus’ eyes and just like that the heavy atmosphere was back, the silence, the pain, the fear of loosing something important. Magnus took a deep breath. 

“Maybe, but at some point they can remind you of me coming back.“ He tried a smile, but it slipped and eventually he just gave it up. Smiling wasn’t the right thing to do at the moment.

“Are you coming back?,“ Alec whispered, his voice heavy like Magnus’ heart. 

“I want to.“

-+-

The day Magnus left, Alec was upset. He sat on the floor of the little balcony of the apartment he shared with his father and glared down at the street through the metal bars that kept him from falling. He didn’t get up when his father returned from his shift in the early evening. He didn’t look up when he heard his father’s step getting closer. He only closed his eyes when his father’s hand brushed through his hair and then was gone again.

“He’s leaving today, isn’t he?“ Robert asked as he sat down next to his son, still in his uniform and with no judgment in his voice, maybe a little bit of soft empathy. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to say goodbye at the airport?“ It was meant well, Alec knew that, felt a bit of the tension bleed out of him at the cautious tone of his   
father’s words. 

“No,“ he said looking back down at the street. “I’m not his boyfriend, Dad.“ His voice grow softer and softer until it was almost too quite for his own ears. “It’s just a stupid crush.“ 

Robert put one hand against Alec’s back, just rubbing it in silent support. Alec’s own hand moved to the inside of his upper arm. It was covered by the sleeve of his sweater, but he could still feel the temporary tattoo of the Magnolia flower. It would fade, he knew that. But maybe he could let Magnus go like this, maybe the fading colors would take his feelings for him with them.

“I got some ice cream on the way home.“

“Thank you, Dad.“

-+-

When Alec stopped replying to his messages, Magnus wasn’t mad because the last sent message had been ‘I miss you‘.   
Magnus had replied with ‘I miss you, too.‘, but that message had never been marked as read.

-+-

Alec got another tattoo. It was on the side of his wrist where there were also the cherry blossoms where on the inside. It was small, much simpler than the other, of which Isabelle had a perfect copy on her own wrist. Nothing more than a few black lines, no color, no shades. 

It was on the wrist he was caught at when he ran into somebody on the campus of his college. Books were flying to the ground and Alec would have landed among them hard if the other hadn’t caught him. Alec was late to a class and the professor already disliked him for voicing strong opinions, but he needed the credit to graduate at the end of this semester. 

“Careful, that could cause a major accident.“ That voice was familiar, the soft laughter was familiar. 

Alec looked up and found familiar eyes, familiar dark skin, even darker against his own pale wrist. A familiar pain in his chest. The laughter of the other young man died, though he wasn’t looking at Alec, his eyes were trained on the two tattoos on the wrist his fingers were tapped around. Alec’s breathing became heavier, his eyes started burning. He felt fear burning in his guts. What would he do if Magnus didn’t recognize him? What would he respond if Magnus would say something like “Hey, nice tattoos.“? What would he do if he’d make a stupid comment about them like the time they first met?

Magnus’ thumb moved slowly across the stylized Magnolia flower. When he looked up, his expression was so open, that it tore something in Alec’s chest apart. Two heart met each other again and collided in a silence so loud it made Alec’s ears ring. 

“You got a new tattoo.“

“Of course I did,“ Alec replied, his voice cracking already. He had typed out ‘I think I love you‘ so many times after Magnus had left, had changed it to ‘Maybe we could go on a date when we meet again‘ and eventually only sent ‘I miss you‘ before throwing his phone across the room. “It’s not like you came back before the other washed off.“ His eyes were shining with tears, that had been held back for too long. 

It had been unfair to hate Magnus for leaving and he hadn’t actually hated him for leaving. Alec had been mad at himself for not having the courage to ask him out earlier. So, when Magnus smiled, Alec hugged him and didn’t want to let go. Magnus hugged him back and a tiny piece of their world fell back into place. 

“Would you like to go for a drink sometime?“ Alec muttered against the warm skin of Magnus’ neck. He felt hands move soothingly across his back and lips pressed to his messy hair. 

“I would love to.“

-+-

It was temporary because Magnus was only visiting. He had a job in Europe, his mother was there, but they decided to try it nonetheless.   
And when Magnus eventually moved back to New York for real, Alec went to the tattoo studio to add some color to the black line of the little Magnolia flower on his wrist.


	32. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another high school AU ...

There was a car wrapped in pride flags in the parking lot of the school. 

Alec halted in his hurry to get to class and just stared. Then he took out his phone and made a picture. When he started running again towards the school building, he wasn’t headed for his classroom. 

He didn’t take the stairs, he crossed the assembly hall, almost ran into a group of students carrying art supplies, took a sharp left turn and eventually reached the desk of the secretary of the headmaster. Catarina Loss had the phone against her ear, but her fingers were hovering over the dial plate, raising an eyebrow at Alec. 

“Mr. Lightwood?“ she asked with slightly pursed lips and that cautious look in her eyes that she always got when Alec appeared in her office without being called out by the headmaster first. “Did you get the wrong door? Or are you starting a trend, where you do something and then also report it?“  
Alec blinked a few times in confusion.   
“What? No.“

Catarina put the phone down again and took a deep breath. “Then what made you storm my office like you’re possessed?“

“There’s a car wrapped in pride flags in the parking lot.“

“Which is none of your business? We know about it, and Mr. Starkweather is handling it, which is why-“

“Was it Herondale’s care? I bet it was.“

Catarina sighed and leaned forward a bit across her desk. “Alec, it’s none of you business, so get your ass to the classroom and let us handle this,“ she told him sternly with a certain strict emphasis on every word. But Alec had grown up with Maryse Lightwood as a mother and therefore had seventeen years experience in opposing that kind of tone and authority. So he leaned a bit forward as well, his fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk. 

“But I want to congratulate whoever did that, Mrs. Loss, that was a genius idea.“

Catarina rolled her eyes at him. “Of course you would think that.“ But at the same time Alec could see a small smile starting to form on her lips, which gave him new hope.

“Exactly and that’s why-“ He was rudely interrupted by the door to Starkweather’s office and the sound of said headmaster’s voice. Both Alec’s and Catarina’s heads automatically turned towards the two people standing in the doorframe. There was the headmaster himself in one of his well-known grey suits and a younger man, too old to be a student, too young to be a new teacher, at least based on Alec’s experience. 

“Okay, Mr. Bane, I will talk to Mrs. Herondale and in return, please come talk to me before doing something like that again.“

Mr. Bane nodded stiffly and they shook hands. Mr. Bane was also wearing a shirt with PRIDE printed across the front in rainbow letters under a grey jacket, that made the shirt perfectly acceptable for work, Alec thought. It also looked very good on Mr. Bane’s lean frame, in Alec’s opinion.

“Mr. Lightwood, what are you doing here? I’m pretty sure you should be in your classroom right now.“ Alec nodded at his headmaster’s inquiry. 

“You are very right about that assumption, Mr. Starkweather, but unfortunately I lost my keys somewhere and wanted to let dear Mrs. Loss know,“ Alec instantly replied with the most innocent smile he could muster and judging by his sister’s latest outburst, he’d gotten pretty good at that.

“Shouldn’t you contact the janitor about that?“

“Couldn’t find them.“ Alec tried not to let his eyes wander to Mr. Bane, who had made his way to Catarina’s desk, still obviously upset about the outcome of the conversation and probably whatever had made him wrap Mrs. Herondale’s car in pretty colors. At least Alec was pretty sure by now, that it had been him. Mr. Starkweather on the other hand gave Alec the same look exhaustion he usually got from his headmaster when he showed up somewhere, where he wasn’t supposed to be. 

“Whatever,“ the headmaster eventually muttered. „Just get back to class.“ Alec saluted reflexively, but put his hand down again quickly as he noticed Mr. Bane giving him a weird look out of the corner of his eye. When the door to Starkweather’s office closed again the three of them were caught in a short awkward silence, in which Alec felt Mr. Bane’s eyes on him with an expression, that gave nothing away. Fortunately, Catarina came to his aid, or not, but she did break the silence with a smirk.

“Wow, only two days before getting in trouble with your colleagues, Magnus? That’s a new record.“

Mr. Bane - Magnus - glared at her. “It’s not my fault, that most teachers of the older generation are ignorant idiots.“

“Oh, and you’re going to show them how to be mature by wrapping their cars with flags?“ Catarina’s smirk grew into an amused grin. Magnus crossed his arms in front of his chest protectively and awkwardly shrugged, which was ridiculously cute, Alec thought. 

“What? It is an improvement, I would say, as a student I would have punctured her tires as well.“

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s what students would do, right Alec?“

Alec couldn’t help but grin. “No idea, what you’re talking about.“

Magnus raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Alec Lightwood? You’re that troublemaker that I’ve heard so much about.“ There was a smirk on his lips and he was seriously attractive with that expression. Alec also really wanted to run his hands through that black hair. 

“Only good things, I hope,“ he tried his lamest attempt at flirting yet, but luckily that smirk didn’t vanish from Magnus’ lips. 

“They warned me to not go to this school for my internship because of you.“

So much for that. “Well … I’m glad you didn’t listen to them.“

The smirk turned into an actual smile. “Yeah, me too,“ Magnus said in a much softer voice and Alec had to swallow heavily. His mouth was suddenly very dry and his hormones didn’t know what to do with that answer. “Nice shirt by the way.“

Glad to have something else to focus on, Alec threw a quick glance at his shirt, because his brain was at the moment unable to remember what he’d put on in the morning. It was a simple black shirt with big white letters across the front, spelling out ‘Still gay!‘.

“Thank you,“ he eventually muttered and could feel his face heating up and his heart freaking out. He just stared at Magnus, unable to come up with something else to say and also glad that his mouth stayed shut, because he tended to say the most embarrassing things in situations like this. Magnus on the other hand also seemed to be very contempt with just looking back at Alec, which Alec had yet to evaluate if it was a good or a bad thing. It was definitely bad for his nerves. 

“You should get back to class,“ Catarina stage-whispered. 

“Yeah,“ Alec muttered absent-mindedly. “I totally should.“ It took him a couple more seconds to shake himself out of his trance. “Okay, bye, great meeting you,“ he gave Magnus an awkward wave, who calmly copied the gesture, but less awkwardly, and then stumbled out into the hallway. He made it around the first two corners before he had to lean against the wall, taking deep breaths. 

This would so not be the same kind of boring school year that he had expected.


	33. Sequel to 'Pride': Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain hit a wall and I needed to share.

Alec had tried asking out Magnus several times. The first time had ended with him falling down the stairs and Jace had run against a door when Alec had told him the story of that encounter later. Jace still broke randomly into uncontrolled chuckling when he was around Alec and Magnus walked by. 

The second time went better. Alec stayed unharmed, but Magnus still said no, very much emphasizing the fact that he would not go out with students during his internship and definitely not with underage students. “I tried that once. She was pretty, she was smart, she was a student at a school I wasn’t working on. She was the younger friend of my dorm roommate. It did not end well, as in ‘threatening letters to girl I studied with‘-not well. Therefore no, I’m not going to do that again, okay? Apart from the fact, that it is just wrong and I should have bloody known better,“ Magnus had explained to Alec one afternoon during the big break, probably holding Alec’s face between his hands to put more emphasis on the seriousness of the message. But it didn’t really help with Alec’s hormones or his constantly derailing thought process of ‘Please, kiss me.‘ “I’m also not mixing work with pleasure. No matter how pretty you are.“

“So, you admit that I’m pretty?“ Alec had tried, but instead of even getting close to making Magnus flustered, the intern had just patted Alec’s cheek softly, explaining matter-of-factly: 

“Yes, based on the traditional idea of beauty our society has currently created you are attractive and you have a very symmetrical face, you’re fit, your skin’s maybe a bit too pale. You’re sure that you are not sick? There’s a bug going around among the fifth-graders.“  
Alec had narrowed his eyes at him, giving Magnus a dry laugh and even went as far as sticking out his tongue. “You are terrible at giving compliments, you know that?“ 

“Only to people I don’t date,“ Magnus replied easily, winked and for some reason Alec was blushing like a traffic light, that was stuck on ‘Stop’. He mouthed ‘I hate you‘ at the grinning intern, who mouthed ‘No, you don’t‘ back at him. Alec stumbled over his feet, when he turned around, but at least managed not to fall this time. 

Alec might have emptied a bowl of glitter in Magnus’ bag as revenge, adding a sign saying ‘Wrath of the Sparkle’. Magnus had not reported him to Starkweather and whenever a student had asked him about what happened to his bag, Magnus had replied “It’s rainbow glitter, it’s a statement.“

-+-

After that though Alec kind of gave up on the idea of getting Magnus to agree on a date. He realized something else though: talking to Magnus was fun, having his attention was fun, bickering with him was fun. The guy wasn’t just seriously attractive, he was also fun and smart and Alec found himself excited every morning to see what Magnus would wear this time, what quote would be on his shirt, what pattern on his blazer. 

He managed to get around the school’s sort of-dress code for teachers and for what was considered to be ‘serious work wear‘ to especially annoy Mrs. Herondale, who notably sent glares in Magnus’ direction, but had become pretty careful with what she said around him. At least that was how Alec explained her cold, but respectful interaction with Magnus in front of the classroom one day. It might have also been influenced by the fact, that Magnus had worn a ‘Bisexual and Proud‘-shirt that day. 

“Man, you are so gone for this intern, it’s almost lame,“ Jace laughed one afternoon, when he and Alec were sitting on the bleachers waiting for Isabelle to finish her soccer training. They had gotten sandwiches for lunch and were now eating the rest of them. Alec gave his best friend a nasty look, while he tried to keep track at Izzy out on the field from the corner of his eye. 

“So what? He seems pretty damn awesome and-“

“-He’s never going to date you, Alec. Why don’t you just safe yourself the trouble?“ There was a note of well-meant advice in there, Alec knew it. He sighed and took the last bite of his sandwich. 

“Sadly, crushes don’t work that way, Jace.“ Alec snatched Jace’s half-empty smoothie, which got him a half-hearted glare from his best friend. But then Isabelle scored a goal, Jace jumped up yelling “GOAL!“, hitting the smoothie with one outstretched hand and emptying the content over the front of Alec’s shirt. 

When they ran into Magnus in the parking lot behind the school after Izzy had finished, Alec dead-panned “It’s meant to be that way“ at Magnus’ curiously raised eyebrow. Jace almost broke down laughing and had to get his own pizza order that night because Alec refused to share.

-+-

The day Alec turned eighteen was a Friday and the day he willingly stayed behind because Magnus had asked him to. Now he was standing in the entrance hall, near the staircase that lead upstairs to the next floor, and wondered how long he’d end up waiting before feeling stupid. He sighed and looked down at his phone, playing Candy Crush to pass the time, trying to keep his mind from straying to places that were too depressing. Afternoons at school were not good for his nerves, especially when he had nothing really to do.

Izzy had an ice cream date and Jace was busy with the photography club. They would celebrate later in the evening at home with Nachos for dinner. 

“At what point does a crush actually turn into an obsession?“ Alec wondered out loud after running out of in-game lives, but he never got to the point of actually googling it, because just one second later, his world was suddenly covered with violet and pink and some green and lights flashing. It wasn’t wet and when Alec opened his eyes again cautiously and raised one hand in front of his eyes, he realized it wasn’t anything nasty or sticky. It was-

“Glitter?“

Somebody had dumped what felt like a bucket worth of glitter over his head. He looked up towards the stairs and standing there was Magnus, leaning against the staircase railing, an empty bucket next to him, still all glittery form the its content, and looking down at Alec with easy, warm smile. “It’s rainbow glitter,“ he explained and Alec was reminded of the shirt he’d worn the day, they’d met for the first time. “Happy Birthday, Alec.“

Alec felt a smile growing on his face and warmth bubbling up in his chest. This was nice, he thought. Magnus might never agree to go out with him, they might never end up dating, but he liked to believe, that by now they had become something like friends. 

-+-

When Magnus left school the next day, he found his motorcycle wrapped in gold and silver and he wasn’t mad at it for one second.


	34. Fairytale #1 /Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violinist!Alec meets Magnus, who has been made the bird in the golden cage by the royal family.   
> (with ending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I managed to get another chapter done, yay. (I'm writing the next BlindSpot chapter parallel to this.) and as it's a bit different than the others, I wanted to share, why that's the case:
> 
> I had some personal issues the last week, which happens way too often, and at some point considered just to quit writing Fanfiction for good, like just delete it all and that's it, but then I thought about it and decided to not give up on it just yet, to try something easier, so I looked up lost of remaining prompts for this and decided to do something for 'Gems', which then grew bigger and bigger and I decided to finish this one story and try out the style of a sort of fairytale. That ended with me cutting out the part, that would have made it fit for the gem-prompt, it became a mixture of beauty and blindness, sort of, and then I just went ahead and called it 'Fairytale #1' with the addition of beauty, because so far that's the strongest theme if I had to pick one from the prompts. 
> 
> So, yeah, for those who are still here: I hope you like it, I'm very thankful, that there are still people who read this. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine and probably poorly edited, because I currently have a cold.

My heart is a music box.

I breathe, it plays.

You smile, it stops.

Keep playing, little music box.

Stay strong and brave.

-+- First Night -+-

The royal family always made their way through the city in the first week of each year, taking a look at what the people in their city had to offer for display. They would be generous with donations, everybody knew that. Everybody would get their best clothes, would smile especially bright, would clean their teeth and brush their hair. The whole city would be filled with fake lights. Alec would do the same, because food was expensive and the winter was cold without firewood. He would take his violin, his best jacket, he would stand in the market square, close enough to be heard, not too close to be in anybody's way. He would play and hope, that somebody would listen.

And somebody did listen. Somebody, who was with the royal family, who hadn't been here the year before.

A figure, tall and dark in a long cloak, with a face full of shadows and eyes filled with warm light, and slit pupils.

Alec's heart was beating faster, yelling silently, jumping in his throat. His fingers froze, his song died on the strings of his violin. He had heard rumors, had heard fairytales and legends, mumblings of old ladies and grumpy veterans. He had heard of creatures with the eyes of an animal, with wings, too, but the cloak was wide enough, so, who knew, what they covered. He had heard, that the king had brought one of these creatures home from the last fight he'd fought with his soldiers; spoils of war. Alec had never thought it to be possibly true.

The person in front of him, tilted their head, their eyes shining in the shadow of the hood. The people around them started whispering. All those confused voices, that Alec could now hear because his violin remained silent, because the wind had stopped howling. A hand came forward from underneath the cloak, dark-brown skin and surprisingly human. It reach up to pull down the hood, ruffling black, wild hair and letting cold air kiss dark cheeks. There was a smile, so careful and encouraging, that it made Alec's heart stutter. The other lifted both arms next and began to imitate Alec's gestures when playing the violin. It took a few moments for him to understand, but he was given the time he needed.

'Keep playing.'

"Magnus!" A woman rushed by, grabbing Magnus' arm and it felt wrong. She was beautiful, everything about her was expensive, her voice laughing, her cheeks rosy from the cold air. "I thought, we had lost you." She smiled and added a few words in a language, Alec didn't understand. Magnus replied in the same language and there was a weight to words, when he spoke them, that made Alec feel like Magnus was more important, than anybody else around him. The woman nodded in understanding, then she turned to Alec and smiled.

"He wants you to keep playing."

'I know', Alec thought with a slight grudge. 'We would have gotten to that understanding without you as well.' But Magnus had turned his head to look at Alec again, too, so Alec swallowed down whatever response had been forming on his tongue. He simply nodded and lifted his violin back on his shoulder again, leaned his cheek against the cold wood and placed the bow carefully on the strings. His eyes didn't leave Magnus, because he was the one Alec was playing for. In the corner of his eyes he noticed, that the woman still hadn't let go of Magnus' arm, and that there were more soldiers arranged behind them than usual.

Tonight, Alec decided, he would play for the prisoner.

He played and played and yellow cat eyes sang along.

-+- Second Night -+-

Alec was invited to the palace and didn't know why. He was ordered to bring his violin as well and nobody wanted to tell him the reason for it. He was brought to a room and didn't know whose room it was. He was scared and knew exactly why, though his fear didn't last long. A curtain was moved to the side and Magnus entered the room. He smiled, while Alec was frozen in place. He was a sum of red and gold and brown and yellow, while Alec was a fading blue and grey. He was beautiful, while Alec felt pale and thin. He had wings, heavy, shining black and as broad as Magnus was tall. They hung low, carried behind Magnus like a sweeping cape, like they were tired or stiff from moving through narrow hallways a few times too often.

Another young man entered the room right before Magnus got close enough to Alec to maybe shake his hand. He had no wings, no warmth, only the emblem of the royal family on his clothes. But Magnus stopped him with a quick shake of his head, he gestured towards the doorway the man had just come through.

"But-", the man protested adding a few words in that foreign language Alec remembered from the market square. But Magnus repeated the gesture and he eventually sighed and turned back around the leave the room, sending one last warning look towards Alec.

Alec watched the whole exchange without moving an inch, too afraid to do something wrong. He still had no idea why he was here, though he began to suspect, that the reason for him being here had something to do with Magnus, who now looked at him curiously, soft sparkles in his eyes. Then he lifted both arms, making a motion to take off a jacket he wasn't wearing. He pointed at Alec afterwards and Alec understood. Hurriedly he took off his own jacket, realizing, that it was too warm to wear it inside anyway. He struggled with his violin case, trying not to let it fall, too insecure to put it down somewhere. Magnus stepped closer and offered his hands to help, his expression open and friendly, his gesture without demand. Alec looked at him, then he nodded slowly and placed the violin in Magnus' hands to properly take his jacket off. Afterwards he took the case back and Magnus pointed at the jacket.

"Thank you," Alec replied and Magnus smiled. He took the jacket and his wings shivered with the sound of ruffled fabric. "But why did you want me to come?"

Again, Magnus raised his arms, but this time he did it to play an invisible violin. Again, he pointed at Alec afterwards, but this time he put his hands flat against each other. A silent 'please' and Alec remembered the words of the woman from the night of their first meeting. "He wants you to keep playing."

Slowly, he nodded. He kneeled down to open the violin case and prepare the instrument. Magnus kneeled down with him, in front of him, across from him, his shining eyes full of interest and wonder.

"So, you don't speak our language … but you can understand it?" he asked cautiously, while his fingers moved with blind trust. Magnus nodded after a moment of what seemed to be thoughtful silence. 'Then the other guy before must have been an interpreter or something …' "Why did you send the other man away?" Alec's heart was beating in his throat, the heartbeat crawling across his skin because his body felt too small, suddenly too cold. Magnus looked at him, his head titled to one side. There was such power within him and Alec didn't understand how people could just take him as some sort of rare pet to drag around town. After long or short moment of silence, Magnus raised one hand, put his index finger against his lips, and Alec understood.

It would be a secret for now.

Alec played his violin that night, for the prisoner. He played standing up, and Magnus stood with him, refusing to sit down.

"Rude," he had whispered, when Alec had tried to convince him to sit down. His voice was heavy with a warm accent and his hand on top of Alec's arm, placed with caution and barely any weight, was the violinist's anchor as he drowned in yellow cat eyes.

-+- Third Night -+-

Alec was called back to the palace the next night. Again, Magnus sent away the interpreter. Again, he motioned for Alec to play. Though this time, Alec played sitting down, and Magnus sat down with him, a knowing smile on his lips.

In the break after the first song, though, Magnus pointed at the instrument and intoned a word, that Alec didn't understand. He narrowed his eyebrows in confusion and Magnus repeated that word, still pointing at the instrument.

"The violin?" he asked, wondering if the other man wanted to maybe hold it or try playing it himself. Magnus' eyes lit up as he nodded and his lips awkwardly tried to form the word.

"Vio-lin," he eventually got out, putting a strong emphasize on the last syllable, stretching the last vowel. Alec nodded, giving him credit for the things he'd done right, urging him to try again at same time.

"Violin."

"Vi-olin." This time, there was more emphasize on the first syllable and he stretched the last vowel less. Alec nodded, a grin growing on his face.

"Yes, keep it up. Violin."

It became a game of them throwing forth and back words of things, they had lying around, laughing at funny words, Alec trying to suppress a grin at some of Magnus' failed attempts and Magnus throwing him dirty looks with no heat behind them. His wings sometimes would lift themselves off the floor, flapping like an exasperated huff before laying down again, They appeared to be less stiff than in the first night.

As the time came for Alec to leave, Magnus held him back softly. He pointed at himself and whispered: "Magnus." Then he pointed at Alec and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Only then did Alec realize, that they hadn't even exchanged names yet. He smiled, pointed at himself and slowly said: "Alexander."

"Alexander," Magnus repeated his name with that soft, rich voice, and he got it right at the first try.

-+- Sixth night -+-

They began with short sentences. Magnus had brought a few sheets of paper, an old pen and a bit of ink and Alec would draw the pictures of things they didn't have around. Alec would draw a sun and tell Magnus the right word for it. Magnus would try to repeat it and when he had the pronunciation right, Alec would play him a short song on the violin as reward. Magnus' wings would lift off the ground with delight, whenever Alec lowered his bow onto the strings. They would shine silken black under the candle-light in the room, with strong feathers, that seemed to grow longer each day.

Then Magnus would draw a funny face on Alec's sun, complete with a comical beard, and would ask with his eyes for the correct pronunciation of the word 'mustache'. It would be warm and fuzzy and they would be sitting closer next to each other, almost forgetting about the pillows around them.

-+- Ninth Night -+-

Magnus hugged Alec, when he got to their room and his black wings wrapped around him protectively and Alec noticed for the first time how much exactly they had grown over the course of the past days.

-+- Eleventh Night -+-

They kissed for the first time, when Magnus wanted to know if the cut on Alec's cheek still hurt. The family's cat had gotten sick and did not appreciate the medicine he had to take. It didn't hurt anymore, was just an angry, red line on pale skin.

The kiss was sweet and short and unexpected.

"Get well … soon," Magnus whispered with their lips still hovering so close to each other, they were breathing the same air. His accent thick and warm, the words yellow and orange, and his wings strong and dark.

-+- Twelfth Night -+-

Alec was told to stay home that night. He was denied entrance, when he went to the palace anyway. He argued with the guards, but it didn't help. The doors stayed close.

-+- Sixteenth Night -+-

Three nights went by without a message, then there was an invitation again. This time, the guards let Alec pass, but the mood inside the palace had shifted, something was off, something was cold grey and dark blue, where it had been soft orange and pastel red before. Magnus sat on one of the pillows in their room. He didn't get up, when Alec entered. He looked exhausted and pale. He smiled and tried to make the smile look strong, he tried so hard to be brave, but he was tired and his eyes were scarred. His wings … everything fell into place, when Alec became aware of his wings, oh, how everything suddenly made such cruel sense.

His wings were shorter, than when Alec had seen them the last time, the color of his feathers were dull and badly ruffled. They broke under the candlelight of the room, every last strength taken from them and parts of them were covered with bandages.

"No," Alec gasped and pressed his hands against his lips, trying the desperate screams inside and silent. His breathing grew heavy with tears and sadness. "They clipped your wings," he whispered disbelieving.

Magnus gave up on his smile and all that stayed was pure guilt. He already tried to hide his wings behind his back, he tried to shield them from Alec's eyes, like they were something to be ashamed about. As if it was his fault … He winced and his body was shaking with pain as he tried to move. Alec rushed to his side, trying to steady him, to make him understand that he didn't have to move, that he didn't have to hide, that it wasn't his fault.

"They became too big."

Alec looked down at Magnus, who was still sitting on the pillow, his legs maybe too weak to carry him far enough. He raised his hands to cup Magnus' face, tears burning in his eyes. Dull, yellow cat eyes looked up at him and where before had been a deep sea, was nothing more than a shallow stream dirtied with mud.

"No," Alec said again, his voice thick with tears and his eyes finally letting them go. He brought his forehead to Magnus' and cried, just cried, cried for both of them. "They weren't too big, they were beautiful," he managed to get out. His cheeks were burning, his heart was breaking. He felt Magnus' hands settling on his hips, grabbing the hem of his jacket and just holding on.

After a while, Alec detached their foreheads, but he stayed close, keeping his hands on Magnus' cheeks, just like Magnus' hands stayed on his hips. He looked down at the face, that only a few day ago had been filled with so much joy and pure excitement. His thumbs brushed in slow circles over the tips of Magnus' cheekbones. The other's dark skin was now wet as well and yellow cat eyes shown with silent tears.

"I want to say good-bye." Magnus' voice was weak and slow, forming the words in a forge in language took so much energy from because it was the language of the people, that had hurt him like that. Alec took a deep breath, deep down he had expected something like that. It had been too good to stay true for long. He closed his eyes, trying to control his pain, his anger. He felt so powerless and he hated it.

"Are you leaving?"

"Maybe." Magnus' arms wrapped around Alec's waist, pulling him closer until there was nothing left between them. Alec did the same. He wrapped his arms around Magnus' neck, allowing Magnus to bury his face in Alec's neck as Alec pressed his face into Magnus' black hair, trying to be closer than close. "But you won't have to play for me anymore."

"That was never an issue for me."

"I know."

Alec wanted to take Magnus with him, when he left, he wanted to break into later that night, wanted to beat up whoever had laid hands on him, whoever had given the order. He wanted punishment for such a heinous crime. But he knew, that nothing would lead anywhere. Magnus kissed the palm of Alec's hand before he left. He looked at Alec from underneath his lashes, a bit of that old sparkle coming back into his eyes.

'I'm going to be alright', they promised and Alec believed it.

-+- Seventeenth Night -+-

The king died. A heart attack they told the people later. His executioner suffered the same tragic fate.

And Magnus was nowhere to be found.

They claimed he stayed in his chambers to mourn, but Alec didn't believe it. Then they said, he was brought to another Estate of the family and Alec didn#t believe that either, and eventually people stopped asking.

When the royal family held their funeral, when the new king was crowned and the whole city sang with music, sad and victorious, Alec took his place at the fountain in the market square and played the song from the night his eyes had found those yellow cat eyes for the first time. He played and played, until his fingers were aching, he cried until his heart was light again.

He played for the prisoner, that was no prisoner any longer.

The legend goes, that there's a race of people, that are gifted. They are born with the eyes of an animal and the wings of a bird and they thrive on knowledge. Their wings grow with the things they learn, their power grows with the languages they master. It is the place, where the saying 'Knowledge is power originated'. Touching their wings in harmful ways, brings the wrath of their gods over whoever did it. They don't engage in war. They are peaceful people, but their gods are cruel and vengeful, though nobody really believes it until they strike them down.

It was three years into the reign of the new king, that Alec saw a hooded figure standing on the side of the road, when he was on his way back from working in the fields that summer. He slowed down, looking at the person who had turned their back to him. It was warm that evening, with the sun still reaching across the horizon with her last long rays of light. He himself only wore a thin shirt, that was smeared with dirt, just like his skin.

The stranger turned around, when Alec got close enough for him to probably hear his footsteps. There was something odd about the other's cloak as well. It didn't really move like fabric, it was stiffer than that and moved against the soft breeze, too, as if it had a strength of its own. Something tucked at the back of Alec's mind and when he finally looked up to see the strangers face, it came crashing down on him.

The yellow cat eyes sparkled in the soft orange light of the setting sun. The dark skin was smooth and full of life. And the cloak was no cloak. Alec stopped, a few steps in front of Magnus, unable to comprehend what was happening, unable to accept this as reality. So many nights he had dreamt of this, so many days he had fantasized about how this could happen. Countless times had he prayed for Magnus to come back and had been scared of that actually happening at the same time. But now he was actually here and his wings, oh, his wings, they unfurled from around his body, gave up any kind of pretense to be a cloak. The black feathers were kissed by sunlight and shone in all their glory. Each wing was at least as long as Magnus was tall. They were strong and dark and beautiful.

Magnus smiled and opened his arms, his expression cautious and curious, and Alec ran right into his arms.

-+-

You play, I listen.

You breathe, I love.


	35. Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a different kind of 'first' meeting. :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's any confusion left about what's going on, feel free to ask. :)

An echo fades slowly, and sometimes not at all.

-+-

He came in on a Monday. 

It was right after noon. Magnus could see the bankers passing by the shop’s windows on their way to a restaurant for a lunch break. He always envied them because they had the time to go out for lunch. They didn’t have to sit on the steps at the back entrance of a tea shop, trying to open the little bag of sugar for your coffee without spilling everything because you forgot to bring scissors again. 

Magnus followed another group of two suits and a dress, all black, walking up the street. He imagined the clean and organized officers they were working in when they didn’t go for lunch, the rustling sound of paper, beeping of telephones, the dull sound of footsteps, especially when somebody wore heels, on a grey carpet. A hint of coffee in the air, mixed with perfume and that bowl of Thai-food, that had been left too long in the microwave. 

Goosebumps broke out over Magnus’ arms.

Suddenly he was very happy about his lunch break on the steps at the back entrance of the shop. He could go through their storage, looking at the big peaks of tea, enjoying the sound of their in his head, smelling the spices, that still lingered from when they opened the packages. Magnus wondered if he still had enough tea at home to make it through the week, when the doorbell rang. It was a little silver-colored bell at the top of the doorframe, small and jingly. Magnus adored it. He had named the bell Misty, but for some reason the name hadn’t caught on with his other coworkers. 

The strangers, that stepped in, wasn’t a face Magnus recognized from their few regular customers - and he would be very upset with himself if he’d happened to forget a face like that. 

„Hey there,“ Magnus chimed, smiling like it was a reflex for him, when customers entered the store. He liked his job, but at the same time he couldn’t help but notice how he sometimes tended to smile at strangers on the street the same way and they would walk a bit faster past him because the were scared he’d try to sell them something. 

„Hey,“ the new guy said, his smile a bit unsure and thin veil of fear covering his whole demeanor. He had his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans, kept pressing his lips into a thin line, released them, pressed them together again and it seemed like his eyes were trying to avoid Magnus without being impolite. „I’m here for … tea. Yeah, I want to get some for my family, my mother sent me.“ 

„Okay, then what kind of tea are you ordered to buy?“

They stared at each other for a while and the other’s thoughts seemed to be far away, as if there was so much more here and Magnus was blind to every detail.

“Green tea,“ the stranger eventually said, voice soft and his eyes falling to the counter between them. “Something with fruit for my sister and a strong black tea for my mother.“

The words sounded rehearsed. When he looked back up again, there depths in his eyes, that hadn’t been there before. His posture relaxed a bit, tension faded from the air around him. Something was lost and Magnus felt a dull pain in his chest. The stranger smiled, careful, like stretching tender skin. “I need a small package of each tea.“

Magnus felt himself nod and mumbled “Yeah, sure.“ It still took him about five more seconds to get to looking for possible options of tea. They had the wall behind the counters filled with boxes, where they stored the teas, that weren’t pre-packaged. Each box could be packaged out individually. So he did, opened one box after the other, let the stranger smell the different kinds, gave him some input on the tea leaves and where the differences lay. He tried to flirt, he really did, he always did. He liked it. He liked putting that little smile on customers’ faces, make them laugh sometimes, let them leave the shop with a little spring in their step.

But this was different. 

The stranger was attractive, he was nice and respectful, patient, too. But flirting felt wrong in this situation, it felt so wrong, that Magnus felt a buzzing on his skin, whenever he would try to go for it. There was something cold between them, a professional distance, that Magnus usually only had with high officials. Not customers. Something was so wrong here and Magnus wanted to leave, he wanted the stranger to finally leave and at the same time wanted him to stay forever. 

When he paid for the tea, the buzzing on Magnus skin had gotten so bad, he was ready to take a break the moment the other was out of the door. In a desperate attempt to avoid the other’s face, his eyes, his own gaze fell on the sweater the stranger was wearing. It was a nice sweater, great color choice, too. 

“That’s a nice sweater,“ Magnus said before he could stop himself. His eyes were drawn back up by the sound of the sudden breath intake of this strange customer. Their eyes met and the other smiled, soft and warm and elegant.

“Thank you,“ he said. “It was a present from my boyfriend.“

Magnus nodded slowly. Of course he had one.

“Great taste,“ he whispered.

“Yeah, I think so, too.“

The buzzing faded a bit. Not everything seemed to be wrong anymore. Something had become right again and Magnus hated himself for not understanding what it was.

-+-

After leaving the shop, Alec went straight back to the hotel room. He barely noticed the other people around him, almost forgot to press the bottom to his floor in the elevator, and barely managed to open the door to his room. When the door closed behind him, he placed the bag with the tea on the small table next to the coatrack, staring at the floor of the short hallway with empty eyes. He leaned back against the door and slowly slid down to the floor. The last of his energy left his body. He was sad, but too tired to cry and it seemed overdramatic at this point anyway. He had cried enough, spent so many nights doing it. It hadn’t helped to dull the ache in his chest. No hour spent training had gotten had made things easier to bear. 

He had been so angry, so sad, furious and desperate and so bloody helpless. Until today. 

‚Track him down, look if he’s okay, go back.‘ That had been the plan to put an end to this, to make his peace with the fact, that Magnus’ memories had really been taken. He had been worried, had wanted nothing more than his boyfriend back. 

But it was okay now, Alec had made sure of that. 

Magnus had a stable job at a nice place. 

He had friendly coworkers. 

He was living in a town, that had legalized same sex marriage, that had a low rate of hate crimes against the LGBT+ community. 

He was allowed to be out and proud like deserved it. 

He had a cat waiting for him at home, a little apartment in a good neighborhood.

He was healthy and not in any debt. 

And most importantly:

He didn’t recognize Alec. 

Alec took a deep breath and let the back of his head hit the door behind him. There had been no need to actually go into the shop, but in the end Alec hadn’t been able to leave the country again without doing so. And maybe, just maybe there had been that little, stupidly naive hope of Magnus recognizing him. But no, of course not. Asmodeus was too powerful, too proud probably as well. He wouldn’t let his magic being broken by something as simple as that. 

“You watched too many movies,“ Alec whispered to himself and closed his eyes. In his defense though, his mother had indeed told him to get tea. She probably hadn’t expected him to cross the Atlantic Ocean to get it, but that wasn’t important right now. Isabelle had promised to cover for him, so Maryse would at least not send a search party, because Alec also had turned off his phone the moment he’d stepped on the plane. He would deal with everything when got back. 

Alec opened his eyes again. 

“It’s okay,“ he said to himself. “It’s going to be okay. I can keep an eye on him from New York.“

The breathing came easier again. The acting in his chest lifted a bit. He might have lost Magnus as his boyfriend, as everything he had been for Alec, but he hadn’t lost Magnus. Magnus, the person, he was okay, he was doing well, and that was enough for Alec. As long as he know Magnus was fine and happy and surrounded by good people, he could was fine with loosing him. 

It was okay.

A second of silence followed and then there was a knock on the door.

-+-

Magnus held open the door for the old lady. She stepped out onto the street and then turned back again with that ‘Oh, no, I forgot something‘-gesture. 

“I wanted to ask, if you could tell, if I can find a church around here? I want to lighten a candle for my grandson,“ she said an apologetic smile on her lips, which Magnus always found a weird thing to do. Why apologize for posing a question like that? He nodded in understanding and stepped out on the street next to her. 

“There is,“ he began and pointed down the street. “If you take that way, and at the end, turn right, you get to an opening, where you’ll find the nearest Institute.“

The woman shot him a confused look as Magnus found himself frozen in place. The almost painful buzzing on his skin returned. His heartbeat speeding up and a part of him understood, but it was so small, that his mind was reeling after all. 

“Institute? Dear, I’m looking for a church.“

Magus blinked, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the direction he’d been pointing to. “Yeah,“ he whispered. “But … that’s-it’s the same.“ He shook his head to get himself to snap out of it and cleaned his throat. In an attempt to save the situation, he put on his best winning smile, looking the old lady. “I’m sorry, I mixed up the words, you’ll find the next church down there.“

“Ah, okay, thank you, young man.“ The woman waved at him as she made her way down the street. 

Magnus dropped the smile and gasped for air. His heart was beating hard in his chest. There was a sound in his ear, there were colors in front of his eyes, then another pair of eyes, a smile, a voice, a buzzing in his ears. The world around him was tinged in so much brighter colors all of a sudden, sounds came sharper to his ears, the soft breeze felt different on his skin. Everything was cold and clear suddenly. His thoughts raced back to the stranger, that had bought tea before the old lady had come in. The one with the nice sweater. The one with the … there was a line on his throat, there was black on skin, a pattern, a tattoo. 

“Rune,“ Magnus muttered. 

And then he started running.

-+-

When Alec opened the door and saw Magnus standing in front of him, both hands pushed against the doorframe and breathing heavily, he was frozen in place. 

“Magnus?“ 

Magnus looked up and his look in his eyes was fierce as a fire from hell. 

“Alexander.“

There was anger and determination, that Alec didn’t understand and then there was nothing left, but Magnus’ lips crashing against his own and the other’s hands holding his face. One kiss was followed by second, only broken by Alec’s name whispered against his lips and Alec started kissing back. He brought his arms arms up to wrap them around Magnus’ waist as Magnus pushed him further into the hotel room until Alec’s back hit a wall. Their lips were bruised when Magnus eventually leaned his forehead against Alec’s, his thumbs tracing the line of Alec’s lower lip and Alec held him as tight as he could, breathed him in, felt the warmth of his body, telling himself not to cry quite yet.

“I’m going to kill him,“ Magnus whispered after a short silence only filled with their heavy breathing. “I’m going to fucking kill him.“

He opened his eyes and they weren’t human anymore. The illusion of round pupils and dark irises bled away, revealing piercing cat eyes, glowing strong and fierce. 

“I’m going to kill my father.“ Magnus placed another, much softer kiss against Alec’s lips.

“For taking your memories?“

The hotel room was dark and empty, filled with so much screaming silence. The air felt electric, a hidden power waking up again. It was velvet on Alec’s skin because it was magic around them. A magic, that had been asleep for too long, not even aware of the chains it had been burdened with. 

“No,“ Magnus growled, shadows passing across his skin. “For leaving an echo of my feelings for you.“ 

Alec narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but Magnus brushed his cheekbones like he had done so many times before and continued:

“He left an echo. He left enough of my feeling for you to leave me with a longing, the feeling of missing something, but not enough to work out what was wrong, what didn’t work out with potential relationships, what I was looking for. This way I would have been a lifetime supply of pain and longing and unrequited love for him to feed off - that’s what I’m going to kill him for.“

And Alec just nodded. “Okay.“ Then he closed the tiny distance between them. “But not today.“

Today he wanted to be about warmth and love and healing scars.

“Tomorrow then.“

There was a soft echo of Magnus’ special stubbornness in those words and Alec wanted to hear it grow and grow and grow.


End file.
